Cocoon
by coors1977
Summary: An OC embarks on a life as a member of the Creative team; her friendships and experiences chronicled along the way. Oh, and Randy's in here, too.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I own nothing but Leigh.  
  
Leigh woke up before the alarm; she stretched her arm to prevent the incessant buzzing from going off. Looking around the barren hotel room, she realized she had unexpected time to fit in a quick run before needing to get ready for her interview.   
  
Getting out of bed and hurriedly dressing, she grabbed her key and headed out the door. While her feet pounded the pavement and she attempted to keep her breathing regulated, she went over any and all possible questions that would be thrown her way; those having to deal with the world of wrestling and her extensive knowledge, as well as those that encompassed general job performances.   
  
Leigh had always been a fan of professional wrestling, but she figured that's all she ever would be. Once word got out that WCW was folding, she realized she wouldn't have the guts to pursue a position with WWE in Connecticut. She couldn't leave her family and face being an adult on her own. As she jogged along the streets of Stamford, she realized how far a leap she had taken in being here. Her dream of being on the creative team for World Wrestling Entertainment was within her grasp; Leigh had to remind herself of that. She glanced at her watch to check her pace against the unfamiliar surroundings and realized that her dream would quickly slip away if she didn't head back to her hotel and clean herself up. She quickly showered and pulled her hair back; she had a tendency to play with it when nervous and that would most likely be the case today. She carefully applied some light make-up and dressed in a light gray suit. Putting her handbag and research materials into her black Coach leather briefcase, she quickly glanced in the mirror. The run earlier had done her good; her cheeks were still a bit flushed and made her hazel eyes bright. Her honey colored hair pulled back showcased her striking features. Here goes everything, Leigh thought.  
  
An attractive woman walked up to the receptionist desk at Titan Towers and announced herself. 'Good morning. I'm Leigh Carter; I have a 9 o'clock appointment with Stephanie McMahon-Levesque.'  
  
The receptionist glanced at her, looking rather bored. 'Thank you. Please have a seat while I let Mrs. Levesque know you're here.' She then picked up her phone and dialed the extension while Leigh looked at her surroundings. The lobby was nicely decorated with only the glaring WWE, Inc. symbol giving away the corporate identity. Magazines were neatly scattered on the coffee table, many recent. Leigh noticed that in addition to the normal advertising magazines, there were also several copies of the latest RAW monthly edition. The (former) Intercontinental Champion Randy Orton glared at her from the cover. 'Jesus, he really does look like a prick,' she thought. Leigh settled back into the leather sofa and took out her copy of the New York Times; she normally didn't read this particular paper, but heard it was a good accessory to bring on any professional outing.   
  
"Ms. Carter?" Leigh glanced up from her paper. "I'm Janine Parker, Stephanie's assistant. She's on a conference call that's running a little behind, but asked that I go ahead and take you up to her office." Janine smiled politely at the young woman as she gathered up her briefcase and paper. As they walked to the elevators, she glanced at Leigh, "Steph's terribly sorry she wasn't able to escort you personally," hitting the button for the tenth floor.  
  
"Oh really, it's fine. I'm thankful she was able to see me so quickly; I was only called yesterday for the interview. I'm just so excited to actually be here," Leigh replied, nervously tucking her sideswept bangs behind her ear.   
  
"Have you been a fan for long?"  
  
"Since I was in grade school. Once I found out all the conflicts and outcomes were scripted, I knew I found what I wanted to do for the rest of my life," Leigh replied truthfully as they stepped into the lobby of the executive suites.  
  
"Can I get you anything while you wait? A cup of coffee or some water, perhaps?"  
  
"No, thank you, though."  
  
"Okay, then, I'll let Stephanie know you're here and she'll let you know when she's ready," the older woman replied, directing Leigh to an overstuffed leather armchair.   
  
Leigh took in her surroundings; there were fresh flower arrangements on Janine's desk as well as the coffee table that looked like it had never seen a cup of coffee in it's life. Windows throughout the floor afforded a stunning view of the lush Connecticut landscape. The wood floors were well polished and Persian rugs were scattered throughout. Hell, the damn things probably cost as much as my mortgage, Leigh thought. She looked up when she heard a door opening.  
  
"Leigh Carter?" Stephanie called. Leigh smiled brightly as she looked at the young woman she admired so much and nodded, getting to her feet.  
  
"Sorry to keep you waiting so long. Please come in. Can I get you anything before we get started?"  
  
"No, thank you. Janine already offered, but really I'm fine," Leigh replied, sitting down in the wing chair facing Stephanie's desk.  
  
"Alright, well let's just get started. I'm a little behind this morning, but I'd like to make sure we get everything covered. Our HR department already went over the preliminary questions during the phone interview, so why don't we start with your past wrestling experience," Stephanie said, sitting down at her desk. She picked up a copy of Leigh's resume and began looking over it.  
  
Damn, Leigh thought.  
  
"Actually, my hands-on experience in the wrestling industry is really rather limited, I'm sorry to say. I have written weekly columns for several websites for the past year or so, including numerous scripted shows. I included them in my response to the online job posting, but I've got them with me, as well, if you'd like to see them." Leigh bent down to open her leather satchel and pulled out her wrestling portfolio.  
  
"I don't know why, but I was under the impression that you had worked at some independent federations doing bookings and working as an agent," Stephanie frowned. This isn't starting well, Leigh thought.  
  
"I wish I had been so lucky. I'm originally from Texas, but the southeast portion of the state. The Von Erichs didn't make it down there nearly enough," Leigh offered.   
  
Stephanie brightened at the mention of Fritz's legacy. Her father, Vince, had worked with the Von Erichs on numerous occasions before finally overtaking their promotion in his quest to own all territories across the nation. "You're familiar with the family?" Stephanie questioned.  
  
"Absolutely. While I was growing up, I would hear stories about the Funk and Von Erich brothers. I was so excited to finally see Kerry when he signed up with your company," Leigh replied. She had noticed that Stephanie perked up when the subject of older territories was brought up and hoped she could turn that in her favor.  
  
"I remember thinking Kerry was the most gorgeous man alive back then. I cried for three days when he died," Stephanie confided. Leigh nodded in sympathy.  
  
Once the ice had been broken, the two young women began talking about the current state of the federation and ideas that Leigh could bring to the table. "If I can be honest, Ms. McMahon," Leigh started.  
  
"Please, call me Stephanie. Anybody who admits to a crush on the Texas Tornado is on a first name basis with me," Steph smiled.   
  
"Okay then, Stephanie," yes! "I know the industry has taken some recent bumps in the road with the brand extension and the loss of Austin and Rock, but I admire the tenacity with which WWE has decided to stick to its guns. However, I think a lot of changes could be made to bring the company back to the forefront of sports and entertainment. The ratings for RAW and SmackDown have been fluctuating lately; unfortunately, you're nowhere near the 5s and 6s you were accustomed to just a few years ago. I think now is the time to realize just who your audience is.  
  
"For the past 3 months, RAW has been pulling approximately a 3.9 rating. That's your core group of fans, the people that won't go anywhere no matter what kind of angles are put on their tvs. What I think has been happening lately is the company is so desperate to get back to the upswing portion of the cyclical-ness of this business that these hot-shot angles are being thrown out. Then you don't know how to follow them up and you've wasted what could have been great television for the upcoming 2 to 3 months." Leigh felt like she was on a roll. She pulled out her presentations and showed Stephanie the diagrams and charts she'd so meticulously researched and created. "Honestly, with advance planning, like what was formerly done 10-15 years ago, I think that would be a great way to get back on track."  
  
"Yes, but with the industry how it is right now, with the increased travel schedules and the injuries running rampant, we can't really plan in advance. We have to take it as it comes," Stephanie pointed out. Her team of writers, bookers and agents were experienced; they knew how to do their jobs. "Take Shelton Benjamin, for example. He was at the beginning of a huge push; one night at a house show he breaks his hand and has to be off tv for three months."  
  
"I understand, but it doesn't have to be that way. I thought one of the most brilliant things you and your team has done recently has been Randy Orton. It's obvious that he's being groomed to be your heavy hitter, and has been since day one. He was sidelined with the shoulder injury, but your team turned that into an angle. You kept him on tv with the RNN updates, fresh in the audiences' mind so when he came back, he was able to go directly back to where he left off. I think the difference in those 2 examples is y'all knew what you wanted to do with Randy, but not a clue when it came to Shelton." Leigh stopped herself and took a deep breath. She was getting excited and somewhat emotional. Her hands had been flaying wildly throughout her speech, and she was thankful she had pulled her thick mass of hair into the bun at the nape of her neck. She calmly folded her hands in her lap and sat back in her chair. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble, I think I'll take that water now."  
  
Stephanie looked at the woman sitting in front of her. She knew her stuff; her background in market research had obviously helped her tremendously in preparation for this interview, but her actual experience in the wrestling industry was definitely lacking. Leigh's passion was evident throughout her speech, and she had most definitely hit on an issue Steph was having within her department. Vince had been on her back recently about the ratings and, with their tv contract with Spike expiring next year, she and Vince both knew how important the ratings would be to their renegotiation. She stood up and looked at Leigh, "No problem. I'll just go get it for you," and walked out.  
  
Damn, I went too far, Leigh thought. She knew she needed to keep her cool in this situation, but she was so close. For the past twenty years, she knew the only thing she wanted to do was work on the creative team for this company. She had read every insider dirt sheet, seen every house show and indy fed she could afford. To be sitting in this office, talking to Stephanie-FREAKING-McMahon and blow it like that was more than she could handle.  
  
"Here you go, Leigh," Stephanie said, holding out a chilled bottle of water. "I hope you don't mind, but I've asked my dad to be involved in the rest of this meeting. I think you've made some really interesting points so far; most of which have been brought to my attention already, but definitely worth looking into again." Leigh slowly looked up to see the very impressive presence of Vince McMahon. She stood up to shake his hand.  
  
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. McMahon," she croaked.   
  
Vince smiled. "The pleasure is mine. I don't mind saying that Steph here is quite taken with you already. She's filled me in on what you've discussed, so please continue." He sat in the chair next to Leigh, settling back and crossing his right ankle at his left knee. She was stunned as she looked at his custom-made suit and salt-and-pepper hair.   
  
Leigh cleared her throat. "Thank you. We were discussing advance planning as far as angles go. Another idea I wanted to bring up is getting back to basic wrestling and storytelling. I know you've already put in motion the thought of directing the matches back to a more mat-wrestling basis, which I think will help a lot. Not only will it cut down on injuries, which brings me back to my last point about the planning, but I think it will force the up-and-coming wrestlers to think about their matches. What separates the good wrestlers from the great is their storytelling ability. Mick Foley and Ric Flair both made a point to come up with some reason for doing what they did in every angle. I think it made not only for great tv, but is the reason they're both legends today. Granted, they both have very different styles of wrestling, but they both wanted to create reasons why they took every action. I think that's sorely lacking from a lot of your superstars today." Leigh looked at both members of the McMahon family trying to gauge their reactions. Vince made a face that indicated he agreed with her and Stephanie followed his lead.  
  
"Okay, Leigh, I'll have to agree with you there, but I have one more question for you. Why should I hire you? What makes you different than the 3.000 other people that applied for this position?" Stephanie looked at the woman and held her breath. She liked Leigh; she appreciated the fact that the woman had put so much effort to be taken seriously. She wanted Leigh to give the right answer.  
  
"To put it simply, Stephanie, I'm a fan. I've watched this company from the days of Saturday Night's Main Event to the Austin v. Mr. McMahon era right up until this week. I've seen the highs and lows and stuck with it. With all due respect, however, I think you all have lost touch with the actual fans that keep you in business. I know what I want to see and I can translate it into what they want to see. They don't particularly want to see an elimination Diva search and I know for damn sure they don't want to see a pregnancy angle. But most of all, I know how to make it good television. I can write; I can tap into the psyche of your casual fan and make RAW and SmackDown into appointment television for them. I'll be honest with you and say that I will always watch these shows. I'm fascinated by the athleticism these men and women have and find it fascinating when there is a truly great angle. Sadly, though, those truly great angles are becoming few and far between. Right now, you're not really giving your fans a reason to tune into your shows; you're giving them a lot of crap with a few good matches now and then. If actions aren't taken soon, I'm afraid to think of what might happen to this company." Leigh was being frank. She knew it. She knew she risked everything in going too far. She had worked so hard to get here, gone through so much heartache over Jim and was hoping to get her life back on track. While this wasn't her last chance at getting her life together, she knew it was her only chance at getting THIS life together.  
  
Leigh looked at Stephanie and Vince as they sized her up. She knew she'd have an answer before walking out of this office. The McMahons stood, and Leigh did the same. "Leigh, I must admit this is the most enlightening interview I've ever conducted. I think you'll be a great fit in our WWE family," Stephanie smiled. Leigh looked from one to the other; Vince was smiling at her like she was his own daughter. "When can you start?" he asked. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: Still own no one. Anything discussed here is strictly my imagination. Don't know what's going to happen at SummerSlam, so if it turns out I'm right, don't get mad.

Leigh strolled into Sacramento's Arco Arena; tonight would be her first RAW as a member of WWE's creative team. She arrived early and walked into the bowels of the stadium. The heels of her black Nine West pumps clicked against the concrete floor as she searched valiantly for the meeting room. She was early but wanted to get herself situated for the upcoming day.  
  
The past month has been a whirlwind for Leigh. After accepting the position, Steph and Vince told her they'd ideally like her to start as soon as possible. She was sent home to Houston to settle her affairs and then was offered the corporate apartment in Stamford until she found a suitable place to live. Leigh had been working the shows from Titan Towers since then, attending meetings via conference calls and communicating with other members of creative, who were on the road, thanks to the wonders of fax, email and cell phones.   
  
Steph initially told Leigh that she would be starting out with the RAW brand; attending house shows on the weekends when necessary and following that up with the 2 hour live broadcast on Mondays. While Leigh got along well enough with her creative team members, she did sense some discord from some of the men. She had walked into the Head of Creative's office with no wrestling experience to speak of and managed to charm herself into being Steph's right-hand woman. Leigh wasn't worried, however; she knew that she could back up all her ideas and they had been the right ones. The RAW ratings had been steadily climbing since she officially came on board three weeks ago. She was obviously doing something right.  
  
Leigh had been the one to suggest the Battle Royal gimmick to get Randy Orton into the number one contender's slot. Vince was ready to go all the way with the young rookie, but Leigh wasn't convinced yet. She knew better than to try and change McMahon's mind, however, and came up with a way to make the win look believable. She knew that with the Iron Man match on the card, there would be a lot of wrestlers annoyed that they had to show up for RAW without any t.v. time, so she figured this would be the best way to accommodate everyone. Having the correct order of elimination, however, would be everything.   
  
Rhyno had been at the start of a decent push, finally coming up from the ranks of Velocity. Leigh had several conversations with Paul Heyman concerning his ECW phenom. She knew that the wrestler's talents were being wasted and he could be a huge monster, preferably as a heel. His intensity and drive were there, he just hadn't been given a chance. Having Rhyno among the last eight contenders had been a good plan; he could perform his signature moves and allow the fans to see how devastating he really could be. Coupling that with Jim Ross' outstanding commentary and there would be no stopping the man.   
  
The Edge and Chris Jericho combination had been a good idea, as well, thanks to Brian's input. He was determined to start a feud between the two Canadians and needed the reason. Having them team up to eliminate a good portion of the Royal combatants, and then Jericho eliminating Edge (accidentally on purpose) will hopefully lead to a good feud down the line for Edge's Intercontinental belt. That left only Randy Orton, Vince's up and coming golden boy, and Chris Jericho, an outstanding proven talent that could have a good match with a broom. It was vitally important to have Jericho as the last eliminated; the two men would wind up having at least a two minute match and Chris was going to have to make it shine. Leigh knew that he could be counted on to put Orton over without hurting any of his own momentum.  
  
As the remaining members of the Creative team filed into the make-shift boardroom, Leigh went to refill on her cup of coffee. She ran into Stephanie on the way back, and the two spoke like long-lost college friends.  
  
"You ready for your first real day here, Leigh?" Steph asked, smiling.  
  
"As I'll ever be. I'm actually excited to see the production side of everything, too. Will I have time to slip off to the booth during the show?"  
  
"Honey, we're home free when the show is actually going on! Honestly, though, we should be okay. I'd like to go over a couple promos with you for Trish. She gets so nervous when she gets in front of a mic, so I'd like you to look them over and make sure she sounds natural." Steph led Leigh into the boardroom and got everyone to settle down. Vince was still out from his recent hospital stay and Steph was relishing the power that was handed to her. Her husband, Paul, came in and kissed her, and then sat down. He shot Leigh a grin and winked, hoping to make her feel more comfortable. Steph and Leigh had been spending a lot of time together lately when the Levesque's weren't on the road, since the two women were so close in age. Finding they had a lot in common, she had been a welcome guest in their home on more than one occasion.  
  
"Good morning, everyone," Steph said, glancing around the room. The small group of creative team members and bookers grumbled their hellos. Even though the weekly shows had been going smoother, they still had to be at the arenas at ungodly hours. "We've got the line-ups settled for tonight, but why don't we start out with SummerSlam. We're only 3 weeks away and we need to get some more matches lined up and need to increase the build up for the announced feuds. Any ideas?".  
  
"Actually, I have a thought," Leigh started, tucking her bangs behind her ear and adjusting her glasses, while ignoring more grumblings from around the room. "Thanks for that overwhelming response. I was thinking last night about Benoit v. Orton…"  
  
"I'm sure you're not the only woman who thinks about Randy Orton at night," Michael Hayes laughed good-naturedly. He grinned at Leigh before she continued.  
  
"That's a sick fantasy life you have there, Mike. Seriously, though, I'm having some issues accepting it."  
  
"You've got to accept it. It's a little late to go back now, Leigh," Paul said while drinking a bottle of water. He wasn't sure where she was going with this.  
  
"I'm not saying I'm not _going_ to accept it, hell, I'm looking forward to it. My issue with it is that you have Randy Orton, who's fresh off his title loss not one month ago, going forward to main event a combined pay-per-view with Chris Benoit."  
  
"Thanks for the summary, gorgeous; now what's your point?" Brian Eiworth piped up.  
  
"My point is that there's no reason. Why is Triple H giving up so easily on what he considers _his_ title to have it handed to some pretty boy, even a pretty boy that's in his faction? Honestly, Hunter has been wrestling Benoit since April trying to get the title back, but Randy's going to go in and win it on his first attempt?" Leigh glanced towards Stephanie's husband to gauge his reaction. Paul was incredibly protective of his Triple H character, with good reason. He had been the one to stick around when the company was going to pot during the Monday Night Wars and had been rewarded handsomely when the then-WWF started to take the lead again. He had taken advantage of the opportunities presented to him and had undoubtedly made the most of them. Like him or hate him (and, for the record, Leigh loved to hate the character), he played a large part in getting the company back on the right track. Austin and Rock were the 'stars', but they needed to have good opponents to get them in the limelight. Paul Levesque had happily put them there.  
  
"What are you trying to say, Leigh?" Stephanie asked.  
  
"I think we should do a series of training matches before SummerSlam. Stay with me here. Randy's talking to Batista in the dressing room, going on and on about how excited he is to be going up against Benoit for the world title. He doesn't hear Hunter come in, so Hunter stands behind him, just _glaring_, I mean completely shooting daggers with his eyes. Randy finally notices his leader and starts backtracking about how HHH was robbed by Eugene and how Evolution is going to get back at him. Then HHH brings up the fact that Randy didn't go down to the ring at the end of last week's match with Batista and Flair." Leigh looked around the room as she spoke. She could see she had gotten the attention of everyone with her excitement and grinned. "So, then HHH says something to the effect of 'No hard feelings, I'm sure you were exhausted' blah blah blah, and then offers to help Randy train."  
  
"That's good; Triple H wants the title back in Evolution because, obviously, that's where it belongs," Paul started, while many in the room groaned. He smiled before going on, looking from Leigh to Stephanie and back to Leigh again. "And what better way to make sure that happens than to have Hunter involved in it from the start?"  
  
"Plus, it makes sense because no one on the RAW roster knows Benoit better right now. Triple H has been wrestling him since March, knows his moves, knows his ring psychology," Stephanie said, now getting excited about the prospect. If they did a series of these, it could take them right into SummerSlam. Possibly have Benoit come out to help call the matches with JR and Jerry Lawler, or even just going down to ringside to scout out his opponent.  
  
"Not only that, but to also have Ric Flair giving his two cents'? This is wrestling gold!" Brian Eiworth jumped out of his seat.  
  
"Wait a minute, Leigh. I agree these are great ideas, but do we really want to give away Triple H vs. Randy Orton on free tv? That's what's probably going to headline Royal Rumble or Wrestlemania next year; we need to keep it fresh," Paul said. He liked the ideas, but wasn't sure about the execution. Without Vince around, he needed to keep the bottom line dollars in mind.  
  
"Okay, then, how about you coach Randy? We could do a Flair vs. Orton and then Batista vs. Orton. Possibly build up a HHH vs. Orton for the week before SummerSlam, but have you sidelined with an injury that week. That's it! For the second match, you're supposed to go out to the ring with Randy, but he can't find you. He thinks you've dumped him for the night, because you've been acting weird ever since the Battle Royal, when, in actuality, Eugene's jumped you backstage. You're hurt and have to sit out the week before SummerSlam; you're preoccupied with making sure Orton brings the title back to Evolution, plus you've got Eugene on your back and you just _**snap**_!"  
  
"Leigh, you've just earned yourself a gold star," Steph grinned. She knew she had made the right decision in hiring Leigh. The newcomer had proven herself valuable beyond her wildest imagination. "Okay, everyone, why don't we take a quick break and then we can go over the rest of the line-ups for tonight's show. Meet back here in 10 minutes."  
  
As the group slowly dispersed for coffee refills and bathroom breaks, Leigh knew she had hit the jackpot. She had been worried about Paul's reaction to her proposal, but he seemed to be embracing the series whole-heartedly. She watched the Levesques smile and converse as Stephanie wiped away a crumb from the corner of Paul's mouth; she felt a pain that she thought was long gone. She missed Jim.  
  
The remainder of the morning was spent plotting out the night's show; they outlined matches and changed outcomes. They added a Highlight Reel and tried to figure out what they would do with the Diva Search plot. Leigh knew they couldn't drop it from the storylines, but wished they could. She hated the fact that these women were taking up valuable television time, and knew that the fans resented it, too. She found it unbelievable that WWE could make beautiful women boring.  
  
After the break for lunch, Leigh made plans with Stephanie to go around the different locker rooms and formally introduce the newest member of the WWE family. Before doing so, Leigh knew she needed to meet up with Trish Stratus and go over her promo. The diva had been sidelined with a hand injury as of late, but being the women's champion, Leigh knew Trish needed to be kept in the forefront of an angle. She couldn't wait until Christian was back from his own injury; she had so many ideas for that pairing.  
  
As Leigh walked down the backstage corridors, she shuffled through the pages of conversation she and Marc Andrews had come up with for Trish during her backstage encounter with Lita. Marc was a member of the creative team as well, and found they both had a knack for writing out conversations that didn't sound too stilted. He had asked Leigh to dinner several times, but she always managed to find an excuse not to go. Apparently he finally got the hint and seemed resigned to a friendship.  
  
Leigh smiled as she realized how much she was enjoying herself at her new job; it seemed the perfect fit for her newly created life. She almost found herself questioning her luck, when she tripped and her files for Trish went flying.   
  
"Shit!" she muttered, bending down to collect them.  
  
"That's no way for a lady to talk," a deep voice answered.  
  
Leigh glanced up quickly at the figure before letting out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: As much as I want to, I don't own Randy or anyone familiar in this chapter. Thanks to my 2 reviewers; you're my favorite people.  
  
"I beg your pardon?" Leigh asked, her throat suddenly going dry.   
  
"I said that's no way for a lady to talk," he repeated with a grin.  
  
"I must not have seen that chapter in Emily Post's Guide to Getting a Man. Silly me," Leigh replied. She gathered up the pages of the file and tried to put them back into some semblance of order. It was proving to be maddeningly difficult since her hands were shaking due to the close proximity of the handsome young man. "Would you mind picking up the pen behind you, please?"  
  
"No problem. I must say, you were quite graceful on your little jaunt there," he laughed. She noticed that his dark blue eyes sparkled when he did so. Sparkled? Christ, Leigh, get a grip, she thought.  
  
"Glad to know those four ballet lessons I took when I was six proved useful," Leigh said as she stood up.  
  
"I'm Randy, by the way." He was trying to look her in the eyes and was shocked by her beauty when at last he did so. The black-framed glasses she was wearing did nothing to hide her beautiful hazel eyes; her cheeks were flushed from bending over to retrieve her pages. She had a thick knot of honey colored hair at the base of her neck which was held in place with two silver knitting needles.   
  
"I know who you are, Mr. Orton." Leigh answered.  
  
"Well, it's great to meet a fan."  
  
"I never said I was a fan; I just said I know who you are. Thanks for your help," Leigh replied, taking the pen from Randy and starting to walk away.  
  
"Wait—I didn't catch your name," Randy called after her.  
  
"That's because I didn't tell you," Leigh replied without turning around.   
  
"Well, Randy, I think she was impressed with you," Paul smirked, walking up behind his protégé. He had seen the entire exchange between the two and loved seeing Randy at a loss for words. The most successful wrestling gimmicks had always been an amped-up version of the wrestler's actual personality, and Randy always used his cocky playboy image when first meeting new people. He was, in actuality, a very respectful and almost shy young man who knew he was talented, but had worked hard to become so. He was grateful for every opportunity that had come his way and had taken advantage of every angle that was presented to him.   
  
"Hey, do you know her?" Randy asked without taking his eyes away from the retreating figure of the young woman.  
  
"Yeah, that's Leigh Carter; Steph's new hire over on the Creative team. She's something, isn't she?" Paul said while taking a swig from his water bottle.  
  
"To say the least. What do you know about her?"  
  
"Not too much, actually," Paul replied as the two men began to walk to what would be Evolution's locker room for that evening's RAW broadcast. "She definitely knows the business, but she's never worked in any wrestling feds."  
  
Randy looked at him as he opened the locker room door. "You know that's not what I meant," he said as he put his bag on the bench and began to change out of the business casual outfit that was now mandated for arrival and departure from the arenas.  
  
Dave Batista was already in the room, dressed for the customary pre-show meeting and warm-up in the ring. "What're you guys talking about?"  
  
"Randy was just blown off by the new girl in Creative," Paul laughed.  
  
"Fresh meat, Orton?" Dave smirked as he raised his eyebrows, teasing the only single member of their little foursome.  
  
"Actually, Dave, she's pretty if you have the whole librarian fantasy that our friend here does," Paul said as he hung up his suit jacket and began unbuttoning his shirt.  
  
"Seriously, man, what else do you know about her?" Randy asked while tying the drawstrings on his workout pants.  
  
"Honestly, she's not exactly forthcoming about what she did before getting the job. She's 27, from Texas… Houston, I think. She was born and raised there, left for school, and moved back after graduation. I think Steph said she did market research or something before taking this job. The two of them have actually been hanging out a lot lately, so don't worry, Randy; I'm sure you'll get another chance to sweep her off her feet."  
  
The men finished changing while they talked about their plans for their time off during the week, then walked back to the catering room for the weekly meeting with Stephanie and the members of her creative team. Grabbing bottles of water, they quickly took their seats as the remainder of the roster filed in. Randy casually looked around, hoping to catch a glimpse of Leigh, finally spotting her in the corner talking to Stephanie in hushed tones.  
  
"I'm sorry about this; I was hoping to have time to introduce you to everybody one-on-one, but with Adam not coming in until later tonight, we're going to have to spend most of this afternoon re-working some of the line-ups. I hope you don't mind," Stephanie apologized to her friend. Leigh had returned from Trish's locker room with the notion of just sitting in on this meeting with the talent and had obviously not expected the ambush that was awaiting her.  
  
"Really, Steph, it's not a big deal. It's probably better this way, honestly; now I don't have to make small talk with 50 different people," Leigh said with a grin. She smoothed out the non-existent wrinkles in her crisp white oxford shirt and pushed up her glasses. "I won't have to say anything, will I?"  
  
"No," Stephanie laughed and swatted at her friend. "I'll just introduce you and say that if anyone has any issues with tonight's show, to come see you, since you practically came up with the whole thing. How'd Trish take the promos, by the way?"  
  
"I think she'll be fine. She went with the short one, which I kind of figured would happen. I think that's going to be the way to go for her until she gets more comfortable speaking on-camera. It'll come eventually; it's just going to take time. And a lot of effort on our part to come up with menacing, but short, promos for her," Leigh said with as an afterthought and smiled.  
  
"Speaking of a lot of effort, I heard Marc's been asking you out," Steph said hopefully.  
  
"You heard about that?"  
  
"I hear about everything."  
  
"Nice segway to the personal stuff"  
  
"Thank you; now don't avoid the question."  
  
Leigh sighed; she wasn't ready to deal with her absence of a dating life. "He's brought up the subject a couple of times, but I don't think I'm ready for that. And besides, he's not my type."  
  
"He's a nice guy!"  
  
"I know he is…"  
  
"So, nice guys aren't your type?"  
  
"Stephanie! Look, I'm just starting out here; I don't want to make any wrong moves just yet. I think dating co-workers falls into that category, don't you?"  
  
"Randy will be heartbroken if he finds out you're dating someone already," Paul commented as he came up behind his wife and slipped his arms around her waist.  
  
"Randy? Leigh, you little hooker—first Marc, now Randy?" Stephanie looked at her friend in amazement.  
  
"We met briefly in the hallway," was all Leigh would say about the encounter and broke eye contact with the couple.  
  
"Yeah, and she blew him off. I'm so proud," Paul looked at Leigh and winked. "Steph, you should get this started if we're going to stay on track."  
  
"You're right, thanks," she said, kissed him and walked to the front of the room, motioning for Leigh to follow her as Paul went back to his seat.  
  
"…and now I know she's not dating anyone," he said to Randy.  
  
"Don't make a big deal out of this, Trips," Randy said, slipping into his wrestling persona. "I was curious about who she is and what her story was. That's all."  
  
"That why you're giving her the creepy stalker glare, Orton?" Dave pitched in on the teasing.  
  
"Okay, when did you two become 14 year-old girls about this whole thing?"  
  
"Thanks for coming everybody," Stephanie said from the front of the room. The three present members of Evolution directed their attention to their boss's daughter. "While we're waiting for the last few stragglers to get here, I just have a quick staff announcement to make. I'd like to introduce Leigh Carter, the newest member of the creative team." Leigh smiled at the crowd realizing that many of the men were looking her over and making comments to one another. She stuck her hands in the pockets of her wide-legged black slacks and tried to portray an aura of casual indifference. "Some of you may have noticed that you're being involved in a lot of new angles recently; she's bringing a fresh pair of eyes to the RAW brand right now and I think has upped the performance of everyone on staff. Please make her feel welcome, but not in the usual ways. She's already made a difference, I want to keep her around and I won't be able to do that if you guys scare her off. So please, behave yourselves and play nice."  
  
Leigh only half listened to Stephanie spouting off the line-ups and order of matches for the evening because she knew most would change anyway. She looked around the room and smiled at the men and women who were looking at her, and then her eyes came to rest on Randy Orton. She could have sworn she had seen him peeking at her even though his head was bent over. He was sitting low in his chair; his long legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles, with one elbow slung over the back of his own chair. That's casual indifference, Leigh thought. Randy raised his head to look at Stephanie again, and Leigh noticed him glance at her out of the corner of his eye before directing his attention back to the head writer. He's definitely pretty to look at, Leigh thought, but he could really be a problem down the line.  
  
Leigh hadn't realized that Stephanie finished with her run-down and pep-talk until most of the roster stood up. Many of the wrestlers that were told would not be used tonight went back and picked up lunch for themselves while the rest went back to their locker rooms to await their turn in the ring. Leigh didn't know how long she had been looking at Randy until Stephanie came up to her. "Is he more your type?"  
  
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Leigh replied with a shrug.  
  
"OK, I'll let it go for now, but don't think you're getting out of this," Steph smirked. "So, I was thinking: do you want to go get a drink after the show? Since it's your first night on the road with us and all, I thought it might be good for you to get to meet some of the guys outside of work."  
  
"Eh, I'm not really a club-hopper, Steph, but thanks."  
  
"Forget about hopping.. or dancing for that matter; I just know I'm gonna want a beer. There's this little English pub right around here that we usually hit after the show. It's got a good jukebox and it's not too loud, unless the boys get drunk." Stephanie urged. "Actually, this isn't an offer; you're coming with us, no questions."  
  
Leigh looked at her friend who was pleading with her eyes. She hadn't had a drink since before Jim… Well, since before Jim. Realizing, however, that this was an entirely new life she was embarking on, she found no reason that she shouldn't accompany her new coworkers for a happy hour after work. Making a mental note to slip her ring on once she had a chance to get to her bag, she nodded at her friend and smiled. "Sure, why not?" 


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Randy won't return my phone calls, so I guess he's still not mine (nor is anyone else who is not an original character).  
  
A/N: I want to say thank you to everyone who has taken the time to review. It really does mean a lot that you've submitted your input to a first time writer. I've been putting a lot of effort into this, and your comments (both positive and negative) are most welcome. Thanks so much! PS to fourlane: I can't come up with titles, either, obviously; maybe it should just be 'What the Hell Happened to Jim?'  
**  
Live shows are usually only as good as the audience watching: the fans create the atmosphere required to make a good show great and a great show legendary. One couldn't help but be caught up in the excitement and sheer urgency of the live television broadcast; wrestlers running to and from their locker rooms, having their make-up applied, ring attire attended and getting into character before stepping out in front of the thousands of people that paid good money to be entertained for two hours. The fans cheered and booed their favorites that graced the ramp or even just appeared on the TitanTron.  
  
Leigh sat in the back, near the gorilla position, watching the broadcast from a monitor with a set of earphones so she could hear the commentary of the legendary Jerry Lawler and Jim 'JR' Ross. She took notes on the show as she watched the men and women prepare themselves for the ring: steeling themselves to step into whatever persona they had created to connect with the fans. Watching them come back after a match was also an experience: men who had fought 'to within an inch of their lives' according to JR, and had been carried into the back on stretchers would immediately pop back up once behind the safety of the curtain. They would attempt to stretch out whatever had been hurt and simply limp back to the trainer's room. They really were superheroes; they lived their lives day in and day out with pain that would sideline even the toughest of the more mainstream athletes. The fans know this, accept it, and respect their favorite wrestlers all the more for it. They appreciate how much each of the wrestlers give of themselves every night, and Leigh knew for a fact that every wrestler in WWE wouldn't have it any other way.  
  
There was so much tension and excitement in the air that at times Leigh found it hard to breathe. Each segment in which she had participated in creating had gone off successfully; Randy and Triple H had performed one of the best vignettes in recent memory. Leigh marveled at how good Paul Levesque was at his job: he had the ability to produce seething hatred among the fans, yet they still cheered wildly whenever he appeared before them. He didn't even feel the need to speak much of the time, but just allowed his presence to alter the mood of the room. He had studied tapes of Ric Flair for years, analyzing the Nature Boy's matches and promos. Paul emulated the way Ric spoke, his mannerisms, his movements, even using much of the same ring psychology. Paul had learned from the best of the best, and now he was trying to pass along some of that wisdom to Randy Orton.  
  
The self-proclaimed Legend Killer was born into a dynasty of the wrestling world; Vince McMahon may have brought wrestling to the forefront, but the Orton men had been the backbone of the industry, shedding their blood, sweat and tears in every ring throughout the country. Randy could have easily coasted by on his name alone, but he had history to live up to. He had worked harder and asked for nothing that he didn't deserve. In fact, he had been reserved when being told of his recent push to the top, having resigned himself to be in the hunt for the Intercontinental Belt for at least another year. Many of the boys in the back thought he was too young to have this much responsibility and had yet to prove himself worthy of this top honor. The people that mattered though, the brass in Connecticut and more importantly, the fans, knew that Randy had it in him. This was his destiny.  
  
The waste of time that is the Diva Search 'talent' show was the next scheduled segment, so Leigh pulled off her headphones and sighed. Getting up from her chair and stretching, she picked up her empty bottle and tossed it in the trash, planning on getting another bottled water before the segment ended. She could hear Jerry Lawler screaming about puppies even without the earphones, although she wasn't sure if it was because Lawler was so loud or just that the crowd was that dead.  
  
"This idea is almost as bad as the whole XFL debacle." Leigh turned around at the voice and saw Chris Jericho with a grin on his face.   
  
"I noticed that even you couldn't get it over. Sorry I got you roped into it on the Highlight Reel; usually I count on you to make every angle at least tolerable. This is just plain painful," Leigh said wincing.  
  
"I'm guessing you're Leigh and you're the reason I'm getting so much work lately?"  
  
"Part of it; the other being just your amazing God-given talent," she confirmed as unscrewed the cap on the water and took a sip. "You're lucky I don't let Steph know you missed the meeting this afternoon."  
  
"I was part of the stragglers. And my wife would probably like a word with you when you meet her; she's been complaining that I'm not home enough with my son."  
  
"If you weren't on the road with us, you'd be on the road with the band. Or we could take you off television altogether, and then where would you be? Home, yes, but broke."  
  
"My merchandise does okay. Besides, the Jericholics would never let me go hungry," Chris grinned.   
  
"Yeah, well if the t-shirt sales ever go down we could always make a killing with the Prince Charming dolls that can be modeled after you," Leigh shot back and raised her eyebrow.  
  
"Too wholesome, huh? Jess thinks I should go back with the goatee; she's been wondering where her rock star husband went."  
  
"If you do go back to it, it'll be a dead giveaway that you're turning heel. We should probably just get you back into another damsel-in-distress storyline; that worked well for you last time."   
  
Chris laughed at this. "You're coming to Gabe's with us, right?"  
  
"Yeah, I'll be there. I'll see you later, okay?" Leigh said as she moved back to her monitor to resume her duties.  
  
"Absolutely. Enjoy the rest of the show, m'lady," Chris replied with a bow as he headed back towards his dressing room and a shower.  
  
Leigh settled back into position just as the 8 remaining wannabe-Divas filed into the back wearing their bikinis. Knowing she had three minutes before they came back to a live-feed for the main event, she began going over her notes of tonight's show. Eugene had been welcomed back by the fans, but Leigh was having a hard time convincing the rest of Creative that he didn't need to be involved in every other television segment. She knew they were running the risk of overexposing Nick Dinsmore and she was trying to keep that from happening; Nick was a good guy and a good wrestler. He might have been the only person to get this ridiculous gimmick over, but lately they'd been bordering on overkill with him. Leigh sighed again and re-crossed her legs as she heard footsteps approaching her from behind.  
  
"You enjoying the show, darlin'?" She looked up to see Ric Flair and Dave Batista nearby, readying themselves for the training match with Randy. Further down the hall, she caught sight of the figures of Paul and Randy walking to catch up to them.  
  
"Hi Ric, it's good to see you again," Leigh smiled as Ric leaned over and kissed her cheek. She had met Naitch the day of her interview with Steph and Vince as he had been in Stamford with his son, David. Luckily, meeting the man that initially hooked her on wrestling allowed her to get over her stage shock before she had to meet any of the other superstars. Vince had been impressed that she felt so at-ease with the men, but he didn't realize that after Leigh met Ric, the rest was a cake walk.   
  
"Okay, Naitch—Batista. We're back on in 10 seconds. Climb on up," Marty the stagehand called.  
  
"We'll catch up later. I'm planning on buying you a drink tonight," Ric winked and pointed at her before he left, as Dave nodded good-bye.  
  
"Don't hurt yourself," Leigh murmured under her breath. It was hard to believe that Ric was still taking the bumps he was at his age. 55 year old men shouldn't allow themselves to be thrown from turnbuckles and hit in the head with folding chairs. On second thought, men of any age shouldn't be doing that, but it's the nature of the beast and Leigh knew that anyone involved in this industry is happy to do it. She put her headphones on and smiled at Paul as he and Randy walked past. They were both in character and weren't in the mood for idle talk, for which she was greatful. Leigh made herself comfortable for the remaining 20 minutes of the show, not believing that her first live event was almost over. She was drained, both mentally and physically, the day having been much longer than anticipated. These were much easier to do from the comfort of her plush office in Stamford; she wanted nothing more than to soak in the tub at her hotel room and go to sleep, but she remembered that she was supposed to meet up for drinks after the show. Leigh twirled the unfamiliar band on her finger while watching Randy Orton and Triple H proceed to the ring with a purpose.  
  
In the arena, Ric and Randy met in the center of ring, looked one another in the eyes and began speaking. What they were saying, Leigh could only allude to; she assumed Ric was taking the young phenom to school and was breaking out all his old psych-out maneuvers. In actuality, though, it might be that they were talking about grocery lists. The content didn't matter at this point; all that mattered was that Randy was about to be taught a lesson on greatness by the man who wrote the book.   
  
The fans seemed to hold their breath in anticipation, knowing that they were watching the past and future collide. Most got up to their feet and screamed before the two grapplers had even laid a hand on one another. Thousands began yelling the Nature Boy's signature call: whoo! The cheers and hollers were deafening while Ric Flair looked at Randy Orton and smiled. Leigh didn't need to guess what he was saying now: he was telling Randy that this is what it's all about, baby. At last, the two men shook hands as a sign of respect and began with a simple collar-and-elbow tie-up.  
  
Leigh was riveted to her chair as she watched the two men beat each other. The match was a back and forth battle; each man on the receiving end of some truly punishing blows, but always coming back for more. She was excited to see that, even though this was billed as a 'training match', neither wrestler was phoning it in; they were taking this seriously. Triple H and Batista were outside the ring, cheering on the combatants, offering encouraging words and a hand up to both contestants when they were thrown to the outside for a breather. There were no ref bumps, no low blows, no cheap shots and no interference. This was a match for the true wrestling fans. JR had stepped up his game on commentary and was the best he had been in a long time; he had been squandered for so long with crap angles and spread himself so thin with his other duties backstage and at the offices. Once some of the burden had been taken off his shoulders, he had renewed his love of the sport.   
  
Leigh glanced around to see several of the wrestlers standing behind her, watching the monitor as well. They, too, were entranced with the violent, ballet-like performance that was occurring in the ring just a few hundred feet away. They watched with anticipation, making note of certain moves that were being used in ways not before thought of. Ric Flair has a tendency to bring out the best in a wrestler when he sees something within him. He obviously saw something in Randy Orton.  
  
After the match concluded, with Randy picking up the win, Leigh knew his push would most likely not be questioned anymore by the boys in the locker room. They would have to admit that he was ready, that he could carry the company into the resurgence of popularity everyone was hoping for. Leigh knew that even casual fans would react to Orton positively; the men would appreciate his arrogance at being the best, and the women would swoon whenever he appeared on camera. After these RAW matches and the Chris Benoit battle at SummerSlam, the die-hard fans would, too, see that Randy Orton was the new big dog. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: WWE hasn't lifted the restraining order, sadly, so no one belongs to me. Still holding out hope that Randy will call.  
**  
Leigh, Stephanie and Marc Andrews were sitting at a long table in a charming English pub called Gabe's. The bar was practically empty, for which all were thankful. They weren't in the mood to deal with the rabid fans that could affect their evening. Leigh knew she wouldn't have been recognized, not having an on-screen role, but was greatful that their gathering would be limited to their small group. She wasn't sure how the alcohol would affect her emotions that night, especially after the grueling day she had just put in. RAW had been a huge success and there was advance praise for this particular episode. They had not only managed to elevate Randy Orton more so than before, but had hinted at tension between Edge and Chris Jericho; Kane had interfered in the Matt Hardy/Dave Batista match, allowing creative to build upon a Kane/Batista feud that would begin down the line, thereby eliminating the ridiculous pregnancy angle. Chris Benoit had performed a seething promo directed to all members of Evolution; finally allowing his hatred and passion to pour through the television cameras. He called on Orton, mainly, but the young grappler had not been the only one verbally attacked.  
  
Leigh twirled the straw in her Jack and Coke and sipped, allowing the liquid to burn down her throat. I'm going to pay for this tomorrow, she thought. She looked at her coworkers as they began arguing about where to take Orton after SummerSlam; should they continue with a Benoit feud or jump right into Triple H? Stephanie looked at her friend, noticing she had been unusually quiet during an argument in which she could provide some much-needed guidance. "You okay, Leigh?"  
  
"Sure; just listening to Marc and his ridiculous preconceived notions that we need to immediately go back to Triple H main-eventing." Both Marc and Stephanie blanched; no one had ever been so blunt before, not when it came to Paul Levesque. "Don't get me wrong, Paul's done a lot and he'll play a huge part down the line, but right now he needs to be used for Eugene. Nick hasn't been given too much time in the ring lately, and he needs to be allowed to showcase the fact that his repertoire consists of more than copying other people's finishing maneuvers." Leigh shot out this statement, only after did she realize that the words sounded much harsher than she intended.  
  
"Wow, sweetheart, don't hold back," Marc laughed uncomfortably to fill the silence. He was surprised that this girl had so much… well, balls, for a lack of a better term. The Creative team had always used Triple H as a go-to guy; partially because he was married to the boss, but more so because there was no reason not to.   
  
"Actually, let's not talk shop tonight. I, for one, have been on overload lately. I'd love to spend the rest of the evening enjoying this beer, talking to my friends and spending time with my husband, if he ever decides to grace us with his presence." Stephanie put an end to the bickering. She had quickly deduced that Marc wasn't going to fall by the wayside when it came to being with Leigh. He'd apparently developed quite the crush on her during this past month and, when he was continuously rejected, had fallen back on the old habit of grade school behavior. He also had no doubt heard that Randy Orton had been asking about her, and didn't want to deal with fighting over a girl who didn't want him with a guy that would, quite possibly, kick his ass. Steph had no doubt in her mind that the two of them would be able to work together, and work well for that matter, as they were both professionals, but it would have been a better idea to hold off on inviting Marc for an evening out until he could move on to another object for his affection.  
  
"Did I hear someone call for a sexy beast?" A voice called out to the three of them.  
  
"Sorry to disappoint you, Chris, but you're not quite as sexy as I was hoping for," Steph laughed as she finished the rest of her beer. "You're just in time to buy the next round, though."  
  
"Actually, if you ladies don't mind, I think I'm going to head back for the night," Marc said as he started to get up. When Steph shot him a questioning look, he merely shrugged his shoulders and glanced at the blonde woman who was still nursing her drink. Leigh raised her head and caught the non-verbal exchange.  
  
"Marc, please don't go because I'm acting like a child. I've had a long day and I'm just…cranky. I promise to behave myself from now on," she replied. She didn't want him to leave because she'd been bitchy, but she wasn't about to fawn over him to make him stay.  
  
"Relax, gorgeous, we've all been there," he smiled, always playing the 'nice guy' card. "I've gotta go because, unlike some uber-organized people at this table, I haven't finished up all my outlines for tomorrow. My boss can be a real bitch when the work isn't done up to code."  
  
"I would take offense to that, but I'm too damn tired. Plus, it's true," Steph smiled sweetly at the man, as he pulled out his wallet to pay his tab. He threw a twenty dollar bill on the table and looked at the two women as Chris Jericho walked up to them, with a tray of drinks in tow.  
  
"There; I bought the first round. You owe me next time we do this," he said; without realizing it, he stated this with his eyes locked on Leigh.  
  
"Didn't take you to be such a cheap date, princess," Jericho laughed as he took Marc's place at the table. "See you later, man."   
  
As Marc opened the door to leave, Paul, Dave, Randy and Ric walked up. Standing aside to let the young writer pass, they heard heels clicking along the sidewalk behind them. Randy turned around to see Trish, Stacey, Amy, Matt Hardy and Shane Helms approaching.   
  
"What is this place, guys? I thought we were going dancing…" Stacey asked the four gentlemen holding the door open for the group to enter.   
  
"Steph wasn't feeling up to anything too high energy. We've been here before, it's pretty quiet and the guy usually gives us free drinks if we promise to not to break anything," Paul replied with a laugh. "Listen, if this isn't your thing, feel free to go wherever."   
  
"I don't want Leigh to think we ditched her…" Trish replied. She had immediately taken a liking to the newcomer and wanted to make her feel welcome. However, she wasn't the type to just sit around in a bar and talk; she could do that anywhere with her friends. A club atmosphere was what the group had been intending.  
  
"Don't worry about it; I'm sure Leigh'll understand. Go, have fun, we'll see you this weekend."  
  
"You're sure? Maybe we should just go in and say hi; one drink won't take that much time," Trish started.  
  
"Don't be stupid; it's already after midnight now. By the time you have a drink and head back over to whatever club, it'll be after 1am. You'll probably miss last call and get annoyed with Leigh for keeping you so long. Trust me, she'll understand."  
  
"Okay, thanks, Paul. Tell Leigh we said sorry. Take it easy, man," Matt said as a good-bye, slinging his arm around Amy's shoulders and leading the group back to the cars.  
  
"Happy now?" Paul said as he turned towards Randy. "No more single guys cuddling up to your woman."  
  
Randy rolled his eyes as Dave and Ric laughed lightly. "It's amazing how not funny you are, Trips," he said and shook his head, walked in the door and over to the bar. "Hey guys, you need anything?" He called to Stephanie, Chris and Leigh. "Paul's paying."  
  
Leigh looked up from her drink to watch the handsome young man as he took drink orders and smiled at them. The sleeves of his blue shirt were rolled up halfway and the forearm muscles flexed as he supported his body weight on them, leaning forward against the half wall separating him from his friends. The light-colored khaki pants he was wearing were loose fitting, but could not hide the fact that his legs were as well developed as the rest of him. His hair was still damp from his shower, and Leigh could smell the soap he used emanating from his tan skin. Randy's eyes locked on hers for a moment, shocking Leigh into realizing that she'd been caught. "What can I get you?" He asked softly, as though trying not to interrupt her thoughts.  
  
"I'm good, thanks," she replied clearly, holding his gaze. She was trying very hard to not let on how much his look affected her, but it was difficult when she had the tendency to catch her breath when he was around.  
  
Paul took his seat next to Stephanie, kissing her full on the lips; Leigh averted her gaze back to Chris on her right and laughed at something he said to Dave, who was sitting on the other side of him. Ric pulled out the chair across the table from Dave, aside Paul, as he sat down and called to Leigh. "OK, dollface, how was the first day?"  
  
"Busy," she replied with a smile. "It'll probably take me a while to get used to this pace. I've gotta ask, Ric, how the hell is it that you've been able to do this for 30 years?" She smiled at the legend as she asked this, propping her right elbow on the table and resting her chin on her hand.  
  
"It's all worth it, darlin'. I wouldn't have had it any other way," he winked at her.  
  
"Careful, Leigh. I think the old fart's flirting with you," Dave laughed, simultaneously slugging Ric on the shoulder and taking the beer Randy handed him. Randy came around the table and handed Paul his scotch on the rocks, before taking the seat at the head of the table, next to Leigh. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest; turning to look at him as he sat down, she offered him a shy smile as way of hello. Randy didn't catch it.  
  
The group of seven talked for a long while, with Chris constantly feeding the jukebox quarters to keep the background noise alive. Ric had been entertaining them with stories of his Four Horsemen days, some of which even Paul hadn't yet heard. Leigh quickly threw a glance at Randy, thankful that the rims of her glasses prevented him from noticing. He was toying with his draft beer, picking it up and putting it back down on the coaster over and over again, watching as the coaster stuck to the bottom of his glass from condensation before falling back to the table again.  
  
"You look like you're enjoying yourself," she offered quietly so she didn't offend the rest of the group.  
  
He didn't say anything at first, he was too surprised that the woman was speaking with him, then smiled without looking at her and said, just as quietly, "I'm pretty easily entertained, but I've heard a lot of these stories from my dad already." Leigh watched again as he picked up his beer and let the coaster fall. "That's annoying," he finally said.  
  
"Here," Leigh pulled the salt shaker over from the center of the table and sprinkled a few grains onto the coaster. "You should be good now." Randy tried again, but the coaster refused to stick to the glass.   
  
"Hey! Where'd you learn that?"  
  
"College; isn't that where everyone learns nifty bar tricks?" Randy finally looked her in the eyes and smiled.   
  
"So, Leigh, what's your story? We've been hearing about Ric's escapades all night, but we don't know a damn thing about you…" Chris directed the group's attention back to the attractive blonde at the end of the table.  
  
"There's no story, or at least, not an interesting one. I grew up in Houston watching wrestling, much to my parents' chagrin. I was a good kid, never got into any trouble. I went out of state for college, where I did get into a lot of trouble, but my parents never knew about it. I moved back to Houston after I graduated and worked a couple shit jobs, and in my spare time did a lot of work for some wrestling websites. One of my columns was actually to write RAW, which could have gotten me sued so I'm still not sure why I did it. When I saw this job posting online, I figured, 'what the hell' and submitted my resume and a couple of stories. Next thing I know, I'm sitting in an empty bar in Sacramento with some of the greats in the business, listening to Jimmy Buffett ask 'Why don't we get drunk and screw'. It's pretty surreal," she laughed.  
  
"No, darlin', surreal is Eric Bischoff working for Vince McMahon. You just got lucky," Ric replied before draining his beer.  
  
"Well, as enlightening as it is to hear Leigh dance around an issue, I think I'm going to head back to bed. See you kids tomorrow," Chris said and, turning to Leigh, kissed her on the cheek. "I know there's more to it than that; we'll talk when you're ready," he whispered in her ear. Leigh could only give Chris a sly smile as a reply. He went to take Stephanie's hand to kiss it good-bye when he realized that she was asleep on Paul's shoulder.  
  
"Would you mind taking her back, too?" Paul laughed as he tried to rouse the sleeping Steph. Leigh got up to use the ladies' room and when she returned to the table, realized that Randy was the only one still sitting there.  
  
"Everybody else take off?" Well, Leigh, that might just be the stupidest question you've ever asked. "I don't think we've met; I'm Captain Obvious."  
  
"Yeah, I didn't know where you parked, so I wanted to make sure you made it back to your car okay," Randy replied with a laugh, looking up at her. He could tell the day had been a long one for her; she looked exhausted. Her eyes were wary behind her glasses and her skin had lost its vibrancy. Some of the hair was beginning to unravel from the knot she had it tied in, allowing soft tendrils to frame her face. Randy had the sudden urge to envelope her in a hug, but he fought it. She slumped into the seat next to him and sighed.  
  
"I was just thinking earlier tonight about how you guys are like superheroes. I don't know how you do this four nights a week," Leigh replied. She took off her glasses and set them on the table, rubbing her hands in her eyes to try to wipe away some of the exhaustion. Even without replacing them on her face, she could tell Randy was looking at her closely. She could feel him looking at her.  
  
"So, do you want to go back or can I buy you a drink?" Randy asked as casually as possible. He wanted to sit with this woman all night, learn everything he could about her.   
  
"I should get back…" Leigh said, putting her glasses back on. Other than that, she made no effort to get up. She knew she should leave and go back to her hotel, but something, some force, was keeping her in her seat, not allowing her to look Randy in the eyes.  
  
After a few minutes, Randy laughed lightly. "Okay, I'll re-phrase: will you go back or can I buy you a drink?" Leigh finally smiled and looked at him, briefly, before shifting her gaze back to the table.. She was silent for a minute; Randy felt as though the air surrounding them was pregnant, as though whatever relationship these two people would share was dependent upon this very moment. He decided that he wasn't going to wait for her to answer, not wait for her to reject him again. He took the initiative and left the table for the bar, ordering her Jack and Coke.

Okay, y'all, I love this. I'm addicted. All future chapters will be under the story titled _Cocoon_.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: My voicemail was acting up, so if Randy and/or WWE called to give me ownership (c'mon, we all know they did) I didn't get the message. Dammit.   
**  
"How'd you know?"  
  
"Your drink? You look like a Jack kinda girl…" Randy put the drink in front of her and sat down. He watched with interest as she picked up the lime and twisted the citrus juice in the glass, stirring absentmindedly. He looked at her graceful hands, the sinews of the muscles flexing ever so slightly. He noticed her knuckles were turning white as she gripped the drink tightly, and he was surprised that he apparently had the same effect on her that she was currently having on him. Her nails were bare except for a clear polish, and for some reason, that enticed him.   
  
"So, I think we somehow managed to get off on the wrong foot this afternoon, and I'm sorry about that. I don't always realize how much of a jackass I can be." Randy wanted to say anything to get her talking again, to look at him, to show him that she knew he was still here.  
  
Leigh sighed and leaned forward, her right palm holding her forehead; her thin frame showed signs of defeat. "We both know you weren't being a jackass. I over-reacted, but I don't like it when people assume things about me."  
  
"You make it difficult not to assume anything. From what I hear, you don't like to offer up much in the way of information." Leigh looked at him, finally, chewing the inside of her cheek.  
  
"What do you want to know?" It was a challenge. Randy laughed because he didn't know what else to do—he didn't want to ask the one question that had been on his mind since he sat down at the table tonight because he was afraid of the answer. So he decided to move into it slowly, to lower her defenses. He, too, leaned forward on the table and held her gaze.  
  
"Let's start easy: favorite book? movie? color?"  
  
Leigh pondered for a moment and picked up her drink. When the coaster stuck to the bottom of the glass, she chuckled and reached again for the salt shaker. "_To Kill a Mockingbird_ on the first two; the color changes depending on my mood."  
  
"OK, so you're a fan of the classics; I respect that. When you were younger, what did you want to be when you grew up?"  
  
"Miss Elizabeth, but with better clothes."  
  
"Hey-she was my first crush when I was little. She used to let me sit on her lap when my dad had a match. Next question: what'd you study in school?" He picked up his draft beer and took a long drink without ever taking his eyes off Leigh. She was relaxing but becoming more aware; no longer was he allowing her to sit on the sidelines like Ric had done earlier. No, he needed her to be an active participant in this conversation.  
  
"Business, with an emphasis in marketing and male members of the ROTC on Thursdays."  
  
"Why only Thursdays?"  
  
"They had to wear their dress blues to class on Thursdays," she grinned.  
  
"Really?" Randy raised his eyebrow. "I think my uniform still fits; maybe someday I'll break it out for you." Leigh laughed heartily at this, clearly not realizing that the future WWE champion was formerly a Marine. "Do you drink beer?"  
  
"I lived in the land of microbrews for 4 wonderful years. I didn't gain the freshman fifteen until I was in my junior year and officially 21. My favorite is Sunshine Wheat, with a slice of lemon. If I'm going mass-produced, I prefer Miller Lite. If I'm anywhere sunny and warm, Corona"  
  
"How old were you when you had your first kiss?"  
  
"Sixteen and one day." Leigh smiled at the memory. "My mom and best friend had decided to throw me a surprise party for the day after my birthday. My friend invited this boy from my church that I'd had a crush on for years and he actually showed up. He drove a bright red Camaro, which I thought was the coolest thing ever, but looking back on it now, I think he was overcompensating. I had an excuse for being a bad kisser; he was just gross. Got over my crush really quick, though."  
  
"Family?"  
  
"2 older brothers, but we're not very close. They had moved out already by the time I was in grade school. Both parents are alive and still married to one another. I have a good relationship with my dad, but we don't really talk all that much. I'm close to my mom though."  
  
"And what about your husband?" Leigh, who had been fidgeting with her glass, stopped suddenly. She knew it was going to come up, but she hadn't expected it so soon. Not after watching Paul and Stephanie all day, not after seeing the looks they shared when they didn't think anyone else was watching. She resumed stirring her drink and raised the glass to her lips to sip it slowly. She wanted something to slow this conversation down, to take a break and go back to idle small talk.  
  
"I'm not married," she answered quietly, so much so that Randy would have missed it if he wasn't leaning over the corner of the table to her, straining to hear every word that escaped her lips.  
  
"You're wearing a wedding band," Randy said, just as quietly, and indicated the platinum and diamond eternity band that Leigh was wearing on the third finger of her left hand. She slipped her hand under the table, knowing that it was already too late. Leigh wouldn't look at Randy so she couldn't see the emotion in his eyes.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"You weren't wearing one when I met you earlier," he said. He leaned into her so she wouldn't mistake what he said, the underlying meaning of the words hanging loosely in the air. Leigh looked up at him suddenly, her breath caught when she realized how close he was to her; her heart pounded wildly and she was surprised he didn't hear it.  
  
"You're very observant."  
  
"You've got that effect on me. Why wouldn't you tell anyone you'd been married? What happened?" Randy sat back in his chair giving them both some much needed air. He couldn't be that close to her, not at this moment. He needed to keep his emotions in check to have this conversation.  
  
"You know, usually when someone states bluntly that they're not married, that's a hint that they don't want to discuss it." Leigh looked at him with fire blazing in her normally serene hazel eyes.   
  
"If you didn't want to talk about it, why do you wear the ring?"  
  
"And yet he keeps talking about it," she said to herself incredulously. "Stephanie said we were going to a bar; I don't like getting hit on by strange men, so I put on my wedding ring. It's a defense mechanism, one that a lot of women use even if they've never been married."  
  
"Bullshit. Even if you thought we were going to some club, you knew you were going to be surrounded by at least 10 very large men. No guy in any bar would have approached you unless you made a move." Randy caught her eyes and held them. He didn't want her to get away from this conversation; he wanted a straight answer, at least for his own peace of mind. He wasn't lying when he said Leigh affected him: He wanted to know everything about this woman, including why she was wearing a wedding ring if she wasn't married.   
  
"Maybe those 10 very large men were the ones I wanted to keep at a distance," Leigh countered, knowing deep down it wasn't true even if she didn't-couldn't-admit it to herself. She looked him in the eyes, daring him to continue questioning her.  
  
"OK, folks, time to close up," an unfamiliar voice rang out, breaking them from their trance. "It was good seeing you again, Randy. Hope you come back again soon." It was the owner, who also apparently doubled as the bartender. The man took both empty glasses from the table and began wiping it down.   
  
Leigh and Randy stood up simultaneously and began gathering their things. There was much left unspoken between the two and Randy had no intention of leaving it this way. Randy stood aside to let Leigh walk past and placed his hand at the base of her spine as he did so, leading the way from behind. The outside air was much chillier despite the summer heat and Leigh shivered, though if she admitted it the reaction had more to do with Randy's touch than with the change in temperature.  
  
"You are _so_ out of line, Orton," Leigh started, turning around to face him. "My personal life is absolutely none of your business." Randy looked down at the ground, his shoulders slumped, and let out a sigh. He raised his head to look at the sky and ran his hands down his face. Finally, he looked at Leigh and realized she was seething in anger. Her body was shaking as she glared at him, her full lips compressed into a thin line. "What went on in my life before WWE has no effect on you and your assumption that I would tell you is ridiculous. Until today, we've never spoken, we've never laid eyes on one another, we've never gotten in each other's way. What makes you think that you can sit down and start some kind of inquisition? Did someone put you up to this? Did someone _ask_ you to do this? What the _hell_, Randy? What did you fucking _think_ I was gonna do? Did you think I would tell you everything that went on in my sad little existence and then cry on your shoulder and let you take me to bed? **Jesus Christ**!" Leigh spat the questions at him, one after another after another. Her voice, which started out calmly and very much controlled, grew louder and louder after each question. She actually yelled out her last exclamation before turning and walking away.  
  
"Leigh, wait!" Randy cried, chasing after her and grabbing her arm. She turned to him with tears in her eyes. They hadn't spilled over, not yet, and Randy doubted if she would ever allow them to do so, knowing she wouldn't, at least not in his presence. But behind the tears the anger was still there, anger at him for what he is currently doing, and anger for whatever the man before him had done. He had obviously touched a nerve with his questioning and hadn't realized that he had pushed her so far past her breaking point. He hadn't meant to cause her so much pain and bring up such terrifying memories, but didn't know how else to bring her out of the shell she had so carefully created around herself. "I'm sorry, I didn't know it was so personal—".  
  
Her eyes grew wide behind her glasses frames. "Didn't know it was so personal? You know what, Orton? I call bullshit this time. You were asking me about my _marriage_—you can't think that wasn't personal," Leigh cried. Randy just looked at her, not saying anything, waiting for her to continue, not knowing if she would. She sighed and turned away, not sure what her next move should be. Should she just go ahead and tell him? Would he leave her be after that? Did she want him to, even now? "Look, I don't know what to say to you at this point. It's late; I'm slightly drunk and really emotional right now. What I do know is I can't continue this conversation, not like this, not in a parking lot with a 75 year-old bartender staring at us out the window while he pretends to count his till."   
  
"Do you want to continue it? Do you want to go somewhere? Judging from your reaction, I'm thinking that you've got a lot to say and no one to say it to. I promise you I didn't mean to piss you off, I had no ulterior motives. I just wanted to know more about you. Yes, granted I should have backed off a while ago, but like I said earlier, I don't always know what a jackass I can be." Randy looked at her in earnest, begging her with his eyes to believe him. She was the most fascinating woman he had ever come into contact with and he would not allow her to walk away and blow him off again.  
  
Leigh looked at him, hard, trying to figure out if he really meant it. She had never been one to open up readily, even to her closest friends, and she didn't know why she had the urge to do so with him. She dropped her gaze and looked around, seeing her rental car close by. She walked over to it and leaned against the hood; folding her arms across her chest and crossing her right leg in front of her left, she finally met his eyes. "My husband's name was Jim. We were married for 2 years but he's gone now. He was a great guy, and we were really happy, so it took me completely by surprise, no warning, nothing; just gone. My life in Houston… it got to be too much this past year. When I had the chance to get away, I jumped at it, and now, here I am."  
  
"Can I ask a question?" he said meekly, not wanting to start another tirade.  
  
"Now you want permission?" she chuckled and wiped away a tear that had yet to fall. Randy walked so that he was standing directly in front of her, with her eyes on his chest. He considered briefly the idea of putting his arms around her, holding her so she would let the tears flow, but reconsidered when he remembered the outburst only moments before, when she accused him of trying to get her to sleep with him. He settled for leaning on the car alongside her, their arms touching. Maybe if she didn't have to look directly at him, she'd talk easier.  
  
"What happened? Why'd he leave you?"  
  
She laughed again and looked at him. "Pretty ballsy, Orton. He didn't leave by choice; he died about a year ago. The how I'll save for another night when a lot of tequila is involved. It'll have to be in a hotel room so I can just pass out right there. There will more than likely be crying and I can guarantee there'll be some vomiting because I hate tequila." She took a deep breath and held it before slowly letting it out, as though in defeat. "For the record, I hate you for tonight."  
  
"Please don't say that. I _really_ don't want that," he replied looking down at her.   
  
Leigh sighed and finally turned to him. "I guess that can't really be called an argument since I did a majority of the yelling." She stated this matter-of-factly.  
  
"Granted, but I deserved it; I'm not even going to try to get out of it. I was an ass, plain and simple. But, for the record, I wasn't doing this to get you to sleep with me. I, honest to God, just really wanted to know what was going on with you. The cookie cutter answers I got from Paul and that you confirmed in there with the guys…those just drove me nuts. Just think, though, if you had only expounded a little bit before, this wouldn't have happened. I'm glad it did, by the way, and I'm especially glad you didn't slap me, although I wouldn't have blamed you if you had."  
  
She smiled at him; a real smile. She didn't know why she told him as much as she had, but she was greatful that he was there to hear it. "Listen, Randy, could we…"  
  
He cut her off. "I was thinking this should stay between us. Unless you want the entire locker room to know, then I'll Chris and you're guaranteed that it'll out by the house shows this weekend. All of SmackDown will know by next Monday's broadcast." He caught the look in her eyes. "It's not my story to tell, Leigh. If you're ready, you can tell people what happened. If not, that's fine, too. Just please, do me a favor and don't wear your wedding ring anymore. I know you think you're protecting yourself, but honestly? It just causes a lot more questions," he took her left hand as he said this and brought it to his lips, kissing it softly and sliding the ring off as he did so. Her breath caught in the back of her throat again as she savored his gentle touch. Opening her hand, Randy placed the ring in the center of her palm and closed her fingers around it. "Go on, get in. I'll follow you back to your hotel to make sure you get there okay."   
  
Leigh did as he said and, once inside, took a moment to breathe. She looked again at the ring in her hand and spent minutes going over the wonderful memories that it represented. She sighed as she realized that, if she indeed wanted to move forward, she would have to say good-bye to the past. Suddenly, headlights swerved in her rearview mirror and she realized that Randy had indeed pulled up behind her as promised. She went to start the car and groaned when nothing happened.  
  
**A/N**: So, there's Jim. There will be more to the story; like I said, a night filled with tequila and vomiting (don't those two always go well together? That's the rest of the chant, you know: lick, shot, squeeze, puke). Thanks again for everyone that's reviewed; you're all good people and I love you for it. Please be safe. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer**: I've hung up on a lot of telemarketers recently; maybe one was actually the WWE offering Randy to me. No? Okay, then…  
  
Leigh sat in the passenger seat next to Randy as he drove down the deserted Sacramento streets. She decided to have the tow truck bring the useless car back to the rental company and she would straighten the mess out in the morning. Leigh was too exhausted to have to deal with the nauseating customer services reps at the moment. The day had been an eventful one, to say the least, and her emotions had run the gauntlet from one extreme to another. She wasn't sure, however, where she stood with the handsome young man presently driving her back to the hotel.  
  
Leigh sighed and leaned her head against the cool window, savoring the comfortable silence that presently surrounded the two. She watched Randy out of the corner of her eye as he drove on, his body language indicating he was open for a discussion. His left arm was propped on the window's ledge and the breeze ruffled his short hair as they drove. Randy must have felt her gaze because he looked at her, however briefly, and smiled warmly. He turned his attention back to the road without saying anything, though, allowing Leigh to make the next move, if she chose to do so.  
  
"I don't think I mentioned how great you guys were tonight," Leigh started.  
  
"I don't know that I'm quite 'great' yet, but it's easy to get confused when I'm in there with Ric and Paul." She shook her head and smiled, not believing for one second that this man didn't believe, at least in part, his own hype. "It's almost surreal, you know? I appreciate what they're trying to do with me, but at the same time, I'm afraid that I'm reaching my pinnacle too young. The last two guys that Vince has done this for are long gone from wrestling."  
  
"You don't really believe that, do you?" Leigh asked incredulously. She shifted in her seat so she could look Randy in the eye, or at least face his direction. She was looking forward to this discussion, as many people had brought up the same points before. Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson was, like Randy, a third generation wrestler. His grandfather, the Great High Chief Peter Maivia, and his dad, Rocky Johnson, had worked for Vince before him. Dwayne, like Randy, had come to WWE very young and had seemingly been groomed for the business. While it took some time for him to find his place among the fans, it wasn't long before The Rock had skyrocketed to fame. While his wrestling ability was far below that of Randy's, it wasn't to say he couldn't hold his own, and his promos were some of the best in the business. However, his movie star good looks guaranteed that he wasn't long in the wrestling world. While he took the opportunity to go to Hollywood and make his mark there, Dwayne never hesitated to come back whenever it was necessary, and it showed how much he truly loved wrestling and WWE. It was his home. Brock Lesnar, on the other hand, was quite the opposite. Vince salivated when he saw the young phenom wrestling in college, and quickly signed him to a developmental deal. Brock learned quickly and his size promised that Vince would be able to build the future of the company on him. He beat Rock's record as youngest champion when he was crowned at the age of 25. After a year on top, however, Vince had thought it best to take him down the ladder a step or two to allow for new blood to hold the title and not tire out the young rookie. Brock despised this demotion, as he called it, and literally gave his two weeks' notice. His last match was WrestleMania XX in New York, and the crowd ate him alive. He is currently chasing his dream to play for the NFL. "I'd like to think you're more comparable to Rock than Lesnar. You and Dwayne come from this business; you were raised within the walls of Titan Towers, which means that you'll do what's best for it. Brock was looking out for himself; when he was taken down from the top, he took his ball and went home. Sure he gave his whole sob story about wanting to play pro ball, but if that were his real motivation, he would've realized that burning his bridge with Vince wasn't in his own best interest."  
  
"But do you understand where I'm coming from? Don't get me wrong, I'm psyched to be in this position, but… where do I go from here? By mid-August, I'll have accomplished what it's taken Chris Benoit 18 years to do," he glanced at her, hoping she understood where he was going with his question.  
  
"We're giving you the title, Randy, because Vince sees something in you. Chris can, and will, make sure you honestly look like the champion once it's all said and done. You can do what you want with it from there. We can give you good opponents and angles that will make it seem more real to you. I know you don't have a lot of the experience under your belt that a lot of these guys do, but you deserve this. Benoit, Flair, Guerrero—they all had to start somewhere. Once SummerSlam is over, people will say you're a young version of them. You'll be a legend in your own time; you just need to take this as it's coming and make the best of it."  
  
"For someone who's only been with the company for a month, you seem to know a lot more than half of the guys in the locker room."  
  
"I was serious when I told Steph I was a fan—not only of the company, but the entire industry. I tried to immerse myself in it as much as I could when I was growing up; I got a lot of ridicule for the longest time. In college, a lot of guys thought I was really cool because I was the only girl who'd watch wrestling with them, but apparently it got old when they realized that I actually wanted to watch the matches. I'd sit there and analyze everything while they tried to get me drunk. I think that's when I officially became one of the guys."  
  
"I don't think you're going to run into that problem anymore," Randy answered quietly. They continued driving in silence, the hum of the tires the only noise between them. Leigh wasn't sure what else to say at this point, and she was almost too exhausted to care. She leaned against the window again and sighed.  
  
"Randy?"  
  
"Hmm?" he answered, not taking his eyes off the road.  
  
"You missed the exit; I'm staying at the Courtyard," she smiled, relieved to know she wasn't the only one having trouble keeping her mind focused.  
  
"Figured they would have shelled out a little more for you guys. We've gotta stay somewhere cheap: it comes out of our own pockets. I thought Vince would at least keep the corporate babies in style," he said as he exited the freeway and made a u-turn.  
  
"What's the point? We're at the arena from 8am until… damn, is it really 3?" Leigh checked her watch against the clock in the car, not quite believing it was so late. For the second time that evening, she removed her glasses to rub at her stinging eyes. Suddenly she felt a slight pressure wrapping around the back of her neck. Randy's nubile fingers began gently massaging the day's tension away from her fragile body, and she seemed to melt under his gentle touch. It was such a tender moment, but Leigh knew it would do no good to find out how much more so it could become. She turned her head to face Randy, who reluctantly moved his arm back to the center console.  
  
"We're here," he said softly, watching her place her glasses back on her face. It was the same tone he used when he first offered to buy her a drink: as though he didn't want to interrupt her thoughts. They sat silently in the car for a moment, no words being spoken, but glances saying things that weren't ready to be said out loud. Leigh bit her lip and was the first to look away. She turned to unbuckle her seatbelt and opened the door and she heard Randy do the same. They stood outside the car, looking over the roof, when Leigh finally spoke; she needed to know.  
  
"Randy, we're good… right?" she asked as she gathered her tote bag and luggage. She finally noticed the quizzical look on his face and figured she should elaborate. "I mean, I'm not the emotional crazy bitch and you're not a jackass? We've moved past that, right?"  
  
Randy smiled, a real smile that went up to his eyes, and chuckled as he walked towards her. "Right, yeah, I think we'll be okay." He reached for the handle of her rolling suitcase, which Leigh greatfully passed over.  
  
They walked silently into the lobby and over to the elevators. As Leigh pushed the up button, she began to wonder whether or not Randy was walking her up to her room. When he pushed the button for the third floor, Leigh's floor, she tried to figure out a way to let him know nothing would happen without embarrassing either one of them. Randy, however, seemed to read her thoughts.  
  
"So, you're on the three, too?" Leigh chuckled in spite of herself. He had seemingly prevented her from needing her foot surgically removed from her mouth. "Remember, I said I didn't do any of this to get you into bed. I may be the resident jackass, but I am a man of my word." Leigh nodded silently, the smile still playing on her lips. "So, listen, I've got some meetings with the merchandise department during the time off this week, so I'll be in Stamford. You think you can fit me into your schedule for dinner? Strictly on the up and up, of course."  
  
"Probably not. I'll be in the office most of the week; I don't know how I managed to incur the wrath of the diva search, but I've got to figure out a way to fit it onto the card for SummerSlam. I have to sign my mortgage papers on Wednesday, and the rest of the time I'm moving into my new place."  
  
"Tell you what, I'll give you a call after I meet with Amanda up there, and if you're free, I'll take you to lunch. Is that fair? Will Marc get pissed?" Randy compromised.  
  
"Please... just don't, okay? I'm not in the mood to deal with petulant little boys." Leigh was leading the way down the hall towards the end where her room was located and rummaged in the tote bag she was carrying for her key.  
  
"What's going on with you two, anyway?"  
  
"With Marc? Nothing. Apparently Steph mentioned to him that I was single and then we started working on a bunch of promos together. He's asked me out a few times and I'm running out of excuses not to go. After tonight, though, I think he finally got the message that I'm not interested." She paused, finally, and looked at him. Quietly she said, "Anyway, thanks for your help tonight: the chauffer, counselor, everything." She took her luggage from Randy and their hands brushed one another however briefly. The man towered over Leigh as he blatantly covered her hand with his own; his dark blue eyes steeled themselves on her large hazel ones and he slowly moved towards her, inching closer until there was no room between the two. She was suddenly aware that his arm rested comfortably on her hip and was pulling her to him. Randy bent his head down to Leigh—agonizingly slowly—and she held her breath, wondering what would come next; not knowing whether she should put a stop to it or not; not knowing whether she _wanted_ to put a stop to it or not. Reading her mind yet again, Randy smiled shyly and moved his head to the young woman's cheek and kissed it; his breath was warm against her skin and shivers ran up and down her spine. He stood back up to his full 6'4" frame and stepped backwards.  
  
"Good night, Leigh; I'll see you tomorrow."

**A/N**: Sorry this was so short, guys, but work's been busy. Please keep your fingers crossed for me, as I've submitted a resume to work for a certain company that I've been obsessed with for the past twenty years. Hope everyone's doing well, and I promise to not go so long between updates again.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer**: I've managed to lose my cell phone. I can't activate the voicemail, so if there's a message from WWE… well, let's just assume there isn't, okay? I can't take that heartbreak.  
  
August 15th dawned silently in Leigh's hotel room. Similar to that morning in late June, she awoke before the alarm went off and lay in bed for a few moments, gathering her thoughts for the upcoming day. Her room was unlike the others had been up until this point: a king size bed with glorious down comforter; sheets washed in lavender water and so soft they glided across her sensitive skin; a large television sat across the room which she would never get the opportunity to watch. The small desk was the only other piece of furniture that Leigh would use on a regular basis while here: it was her link to the outside world. Her laptop sat opened and activated, alerting her to the thirty-seven different emails that had been delivered overnight. The message light on her cell phone warned that there were voicemails that needed her immediate attention. Files for that evening's card were scattered haphazardly around: Benoit v. Orton; Triple H v. Eugene; Jericho v. Edge v. Batista; Diva Dodgeball. These were the angles that she had had a hand in creating, for bringing them to life. Except for the diva gimmick; that one she had been ordered to work on. Leigh had initially suggested a shoot angle with the resident ladies of RAW: they were already partially pissed that these seven women were getting more tv time, not to mention a quarter million dollars. Marc had the brilliant dodgeball idea and brought it to Vince and Stephanie without first telling Leigh; Vince had jumped at it. Then the newest member of Creative had to make it watchable. Not even Fit Finlay could help her with this.  
  
Leigh had just finished tying the laces on her running shoes when there was a knock at the door. Glancing at the digital clock and realizing it was still too early for housekeeping, she unlocked the deadbolt to see Dave Batista, his eyes squinting at the early morning light. His skin was gray and he reeked of a toxic mixture: alcohol, smoke and sweat.  
  
"Morning, sunshine. I didn't think you'd make it," she grinned. The behemoth merely nodded mutely, still unable to speak.  
  
During the four combined pay-per-views WWE puts on annually, Vince would foot the bill to have both rosters stay in a luxury hotel of the company's choosing. The talent relished this time to re-connect with old friends not seen since the last 'big' show. The parties lasted longer, the liquor flowed more freely and the sex was easier to come by. Nowhere was that more evident than anywhere the members of the Evolution faction were camped. While three of the four men were married, they still very much lived their gimmick while on the road. Paul, Stephanie, Ric, Dave and Randy had lead a large group of the talent to an exclusive club in downtown Toronto where 50 members of both RAW and SmackDown had danced and drank until the wee hours of the morning. Now, at 7:30 on Sunday morning, Dave stood at Leigh's door, supposedly ready for their morning run.  
  
"Was it worth it?" Leigh teased as she grabbed her room key, ready to leave. Dave had begun accompanying her every morning in each new city they toured. Because the young woman was too stubborn to admit her terrible sense of direction, she had eventually recruited Dave, the human compass, to be her partner. It had been suggested to him that he work on his cardio to strengthen his in-ring performance, so it seemed a decent fit. They were similar runners in that neither liked to chat during the course, but Leigh immensely enjoyed the quiet talks they shared afterwards when they would stop for coffee on the way back to their hotel. Dave and his wife had been having marriage difficulties when she was suddenly diagnosed with ovarian cancer. While now in remission, it had convinced the couple to work out their issues, but Dave found he was only able to confide in Leigh. She was happy to listen and they both benefited from their joint counseling sessions. Finally, Leigh never had to worry about getting lost or being molested, and Dave didn't have to worry that a fan would stop and request an autograph or picture.  
  
"Nothing is worth this pain," the monster grumbled as he collapsed facedown on her unmade bed. "It's fucking cold in here, Leigh."  
  
"I sleep better when it's cold," she answered simply.  
  
"Remind me never to sleep with you."  
  
"I don't think that's something we'll need to worry about," Leigh replied. "Listen, if you're not up to this, we can take a raincheck. I won't be able to haul your ass back here by myself if you get sick a mile into it." Dave's only response was a soft snore, so Leigh quietly let herself out and, placing the do-not-disturb placard on the doorknob, made her way down to the elevators.  
  
The lobby was quiet and a solitary figure sat at a table eating breakfast and reading a newspaper. Leigh strolled outside into the crisp air and lightly shivered. I'll never get used to living without humidity, she thought. Having spent the previous evening with a street map rather than a bottle of Jack, she started along her mapped-out course, winding through the streets of downtown Toronto. She relished the empty metropolis early on a weekend morning, knowing that tomorrow it would seem like a different city entirely. She passed street vendors setting up shop for the day and men down on their luck making a few dollars by selling newspapers. The day dawned a bright robin-egg blue and Leigh pondered the events of the past few weeks as she jogged.  
  
She had signed the papers transferring the small house in Easton to her name. She lucked out in finding the place, the owner having just divorced and wanted to be rid of the painful memories at whatever cost. Leigh had spent weeks arranging everything to her own high specifications, greatful that her mother had flown up from Texas to help with the painting, gardening and other minor repairs needed to make the house seem like home. Leigh had asked that only her bedroom suite, a gift from her grandmother, be delivered from Houston; she had sold her previous home along with almost everything in it before moving to Connecticut permanently. She had refurnished the house entirely because everything had been bought when she and Jim were still together. A few family pieces of her late husband's had moved with her but, all in all, everything was new and free from memories.  
  
Her friendships had grown as well. She had quickly become one of the favorites backstage, surprisingly enough as she rarely made it out to any of the local nightlife after parties with the wrestlers or divas. Her popularity stemmed not only from her looks, but her talent as well. It was known that she was well-versed in the business and she was attempting to create new angles that would allow the talent to showcase hidden abilities; fresh rivalries were imminent as Leigh did her best to clean up the existing ones without sacrificing logic.  
  
Leigh had settled into a friendship with all the men in the group comprising Evolution, mainly due to her initial relationship with Paul and Stephanie. Ric looked at her as he would his own daughter; Dave had quickly become a good friend and running buddy; Randy was… an enigma.  
  
After the night spent in Sacramento, they had spent a lot of time together. They did eventually have their lunch, the beginning of which was spent in an awkward silence. Launching in on their mutual dislike of seafood had broken the ice between the two, and now they rarely went half a day without speaking. Leigh enjoyed being around Randy, but she hadn't quite forgotten the effect his nearness had had on her; she still got chills when she thought back to the almost-kiss at her hotel room door. Randy, however, was still young and greatly enjoying his status as resident playboy of WWE. He loved women and the feeling was mutual, as he was seen to have entertained several at time whenever it struck his fancy. He made no excuses or apologies regarding his behavior, however, so if it didn't affect his workrate, it didn't affect anyone else. Leigh couldn't blame Randy or the women, as a few years and a marriage ago, she would have, no doubt, tried to place herself at the center of his harem.  
  
When Leigh was in sight of the hotel, she slowed to a walk. She felt invigorated after the three mile run and knew she would need this boost of energy for her upcoming day. Stopping in the lobby to pick up two coffees, fruit and muffins for herself and Dave, she took the elevator up to the silent 12th floor and walked down the corridor to her room. Checking her watch, she saw she had enough time to shower and change before she was due at the Air Canada Centre. Opening the door as quietly as possible, Leigh realized it hadn't been necessary when she heard Dave's massive snores reverberating throughout the room. He was still in the same position she had left him in: sprawled across her bed and drooling. She set down the make-shift breakfast and kicked his foot.  
  
"Do you have any idea how unsanitary it is to come into direct contact with bedspreads in any hotel?"  
  
Dave rolled over and grunted at her, trying to sit up. He wiped the sleep from his eyes, cleared his throat and, accepting the cup of coffee, smirked at her. "Hell, I'm one of the reasons these things are unsanitary."  
  
"You're abhorrent. Now, you need to go so I can get myself cleaned up and over to the arena. I'll see you later, though."  
  
"Eh, you and your big college words; can't you just say 'nasty' like everybody else?" Dave stood up and slurped his coffee; Leigh cringed.  
  
"Please. Hanging out with me is the only education you're ever gonna get. Sooner or later you're going to have to start talking in those promos; wouldn't you like to sound the least bit intelligent?" She slipped off her windbreaker and pulled her shoes off. Standing up again, she walked over to the door and opened it for him.  
  
"Not if I sound like the SAT prep book," Dave laughed and followed her to the open door. "Sorry I bailed this morning; if you'd come with us last night, though, you would totally understand," he said as he leaned down to kiss her cheek.  
  
"I'm not a big hangover fan. Now go. I'll see you later."  
  
After pushing Dave out the door, Leigh went into the bathroom to shower and change for the day. She washed and dried her long blonde hair and pulled it up into the ever-present knot all the talent was familiar with, securing it with two silver knitting needles. She put in her contacts and applied her make-up, not knowing why she was bothering. Slipping into the black sleeveless shift dress with the boatneck and heels she planned to wear, she then began gathering her work portfolio together and was out the door in thirty minutes.  
  
Like every live event she attended, the hours leading up to showtime passed quickly for the Creative Team. When everyone had recovered enough from the previous night, they stumbled into the depths of the arena and managed to find their way into the office. Slowly they ambled towards the coffee machine and tried to bring themselves to life. The group received a stern lecture from Vince about the current state of affairs and the behavior that occurred the previous evening, and then they were able to get to work.  
  
This was the first time Leigh had attended a combined Creative meeting: representatives from both RAW and SmackDown were present, much like the talent for SummerSlam itself. She was finally able to meet many of the people responsible for the sad state of the secondary show. She wasn't surprised; the team was led by Stephanie, of course, but the underlings serving that show didn't have the capability to stand up for themselves when presenting an angle, so they ran the same tired ones over and over again. Leigh had discovered early on that an important part of getting your ideas heard backstage was to present them in a way that allowed Stephanie, Vince or Paul to think they had come up with them. Leigh loved the three McMahons dearly, but it was obvious that they didn't understand what the fans wanted nearly as much as they thought they did. She had been lucky, so far, in that many of the angles she had been involved with lately had already been created. All she had done was to spin them in a logical sense and give them psychological background that made the fans care about it. Leigh had nothing to do with the Kane/Matt Hardy/Lita angle; she wouldn't go anywhere near that.  
  
First they discussed Heat, and the matches that would appear there as a precursor to SummerSlam; since Heat is a RAW show, they settled on Rhyno/Tajiri v. La Resistance and Rosie v. Tyson Tomko. The remainder of the hour would be devoted to promos and summaries of the pay-per-view card. The production staff had done an outstanding job, as always, and had put together several packages that summarized the events leading up the main event. Leigh sat back proudly as she watched the snippets of _Randy Orton's Path to Destiny_: the Battle Royal where he was crowned number one contender; the training matches against Ric Flair and Batista; finally, the tension between student Orton and mentor Triple H. That last one had only been alluded to; Creative would work that in more in upcoming weeks.  
  
They broke for lunch and Leigh checked the voicemails that had come in throughout the morning, not realizing that several from last night were only now appearing. There was one from Randy asking why she wasn't going out with them. One from Stephanie, screeching along to a song playing at the club. Leigh couldn't even begin to fathom what song it was; Steph didn't have the best singing voice. A second message from Randy telling her where he was and would she please meet up with him. One from Marc, asking her if she was avoiding him and what he had done wrong; Leigh rolled her eyes at that one and glanced back at the dark haired man at the table who pretended he hadn't been watching her. His crush was getting old; she couldn't figure out why he was still holding on to it, as Leigh had done nothing to encourage him. They had to work with one another, of course, but she made sure they were never alone together. A final message from Randy came in with a time stamp of 3:42am, presumably the end of the night, when he was alone at his hotel room. _"Hey princess, it's me. I just got back in; went by your room but didn't want to wake you. I just… I wanted to let you know I was thinking about you. SIGH I miss you. Give me a call when you get a minute."_ Leigh giggled at this one. Drunken phone calls are the best.  
  
Stephanie walked up to her, trying her best to look perky, upbeat and not at all hungover. When Leigh smirked at her, Steph gave Leigh her best evil glare and slumped her shoulders. "You are officially my hero," she mumbled as Leigh handed her a cup of coffee. The two women walked back towards catering to grab some lunch and Steph could then fill her friend in on the occurrences of the previous evening.  
  
"So, what happened last night?" Leigh smiled as they sat down with their plates. They had chosen a table away from the rest of the crowd but Steph still leaned forward and spoke in a whisper.  
  
Steph groaned. "We started at a place called Joker; I think that's where I called you from. They play that Steve Miller song every hour; anyway, that's where Dave had the great idea to start with shots. I drank stuff that's probably illegal in the States. We didn't stay there too long, though, and wound up going to some place called Area 51. There was lots of dancing; I twisted my ankle when I was dancing on the table. Lots more drinks: Ric and Paul ordered a couple bottles of champagne. I heard Cena had sex in the bathroom. Stacy and Andrew got in a huge fight on the dance floor and got kicked out. Trish wound up slapping one of the diva contestants, so don't be surprised if dodgeball gets brutal tonight. It was so much fun, but good God, am I paying for it now."  
  
"Yeah, I can't do that anymore; I'm so lame," Leigh laughed as she took a swig from the bottle of water on the table. "I used to be able to drink football players under the table, but apparently I've lost my touch. Such is life," she sighed.  
  
"Well you were definitely missed last night. I felt bad for Randy; the guys were all giving him a hard time. One of the diva contestants, Maria, I think, kept trying to hit on him and he was trying to be the nice guy and let her down easy, but she kept coming over to him and rubbing on him and doing a bad imitation of flirting. He was up at the bar getting a drink and the girl went up to him and 'accidentally' started grinding with him from behind. Anyway, that's when Trish saw her and they got in a screaming match and Trish slapped her. Everybody started cheering and Maria actually got kicked out for harassing the bar patrons."  
  
"Wait, Trish was jealous? I thought she has a boyfriend…"  
  
"She does, really nice guy, too. I think she's just fed up with these women, but what can she do? This is what Dad wants…" Stephanie trailed off and shrugged her shoulders as she took the last bite of her sandwich. "So what did you end up doing last night?"  
  
"Nothing much. I had been thinking about what Paul had said a while back about him and Randy at WrestleMania…"  
  
"Wait a minute, you were working?" Stephanie balked.  
  
"Yeah, I've been so tired lately and I knew today would be long, so I figured I'd skip last night. Apparently it was a good thing, too, seeing the state you and Dave are in this morning. I got a message from Randy last night at quarter to four saying he just got in… I can't do that life anymore; not begrudging anyone who does, but it's just not a regular occurrence for me," Leigh answered. She wiped her mouth with her napkin, having finished her lunch, and checked her watch.  
  
"Wow, you really are lame. Will you come out with us tonight, then?"  
  
"You're doing it all again?!"  
  
"Well, yeah, celebrating. C'mon, I know Randy would love to have you around to protect him from Diva Maria," Stephanie smiled as the two women began walking back to the make-shift office for the second half of the day.  
  
**A/N:** Okay, gang, I'm going to stop there. The next chapter will be part SummerSlam and part aftermath. I think I've got some promising plot lines, but we'll just have to see. Thanks again for all who've reviewed, especially those that have been with me from the beginning. I appreciate your feedback. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I can't even pretend to own anyone.**  
  
The arena had emptied; the fans had left. Only the janitorial crew still remained sweeping up the memories of what had been. Signs were dropped on the floor and had been trampled, wearing the shoeprints of age and remorse. The ring had been torn down, the security walls gone, the screens and pyrotechnic equipment had been packed up and shipped off to London, Ontario, awaiting an even more spectacular event than what SummerSlam had been.  
  
Randy stood in the center of the empty arena, his bag at his feet, still holding the world championship title that he had won only hours before. They would be expecting him soon; his cellular phone had been ringing non-stop since the ref's hand slammed the mat the third and final time. He looked around and took a deep breath. It would be the start of a new era. He would remember this night for years to come, would probably relay the story to his own children when the time came. His happiness and exuberance would hold him for some time but he wanted to remember all of it: the hope, the doubt, the promise, and the questions that only time could answer.  
  
The end of the match, when Benoit re-entered the ring and demanded that Randy shake his hand, had been completely impromptu. Randy had wanted to hug the man and thank him for what he done for his own career. Benoit had handed over his torch, and Randy desperately wanted to run with it. Self-doubt shrouded his happiness like a cloak, uncertainty hung around him like a fog. So many people had so much confidence in him, believing without a shadow of a doubt that he could do this. Randy could do this; he would do this. Breathing deeply, he looked around the arena one last time, thankful he had these few moments alone to recognize what he was feeling. He was at the top of the mountain and was ready to maintain that position for a long time to come. Nodding his head, a smile creeping across his lips, he picked up his bag and made his way to the parking lot outside.  
  
Walking back to his car, he thought back to what the night had brought him. Once stepping back through the curtains, Paul immediately drew Randy into a long hug and congratulated him for the match, saying he was there now: the top. He was in with the big boys and there was no going back. Paul told Randy that he was ready; he deserved this. Randy had merely nodded and fought back tears. He walked away to the sound of thunderous applause from the backstage crew; people he had never even bothered to get to know so emotionally involved in what he had just accomplished. Even though the outcome had been scripted and much of the match had been pre-determined, Randy was proud of what had occurred, and he desperately wanted to see the man that had made it all happen. He had found Benoit in his locker room, getting ready to shower and head back to the hotel to see his wife. Randy had walked in and the two men just looked at one another. Randy could tell that the older man's heart was breaking just a little, knowing that the belt was once again out of his grasp. This was when Randy allowed the tears to fall, knowing that Benoit would understand. "Thank you" was all Randy could say to his opponent as they hugged. They would meet again soon and the next match would be even better, but the emotions that tonight had brought up would never again be repeated. Randy left just as silently as he entered. The ringing of his phone brought him out of his reverie.  
  
"Orton, where the hell are you, man?"  
  
"On my way, Dave. I'll be there soon."  
  
"We've got the Cristal ready for you, Champ."  
  
Shortly after hanging up, Randy pulled up to the valet attendant and handed the man his keys. He buttoned his suit jacket and walked into the club. He walked straight through the doors, bypassing the waiting line, and into the inner sanctuary. Vince had rented out the VIP section and Randy walked in to more applause. "THE CHAMP IS HERE!" Randy heard his good friend, John Cena, shout. He lowered his head and smiled shyly as his friends surrounded him and cheered. A stunning redhead handed him a glass of champagne and kissed him feverishly on his lips. She looked in his eyes and winked, allowing her index finger to trail down his silk tie; the woman licked her lips and slowly backed away. Randy raised his eyebrows, having forgotten how forward ring rats can be.  
  
In the past few weeks since told he would be given the championship, Randy had focused on his wrestling. He worked out harder than normal, ate better than normal, drank less and had limited his female companionship to his friendships with women. He had been hanging around Stephanie anyway due to his close relationship with Paul, but more recently he had found himself seeking out Leigh. The woman was more than a friend, but definitely not a lover. Randy wanted her to be the first person he spoke to in the morning and the last person he thought of at night. Their friendship was honest and genuine; neither asked more than the other was willing to give; now he wanted nothing more than to see Leigh. He scanned the crowd and saw her dancing with Mark Lemonica, otherwise known as Bubba Ray Dudley. She threw her head back and laughed heartily as the large man twirled her around and dipped her. Randy smiled as he watched her, before something hit him. Was he jealous?  
  
A hand slapped Randy on the shoulder and he turned to see none other than Vince McMahon himself standing next to him with a drink in his hand and a grin on his face. The chairman of the board extended his right hand, which Randy shook.  
  
"I have no problem saying yours was without a doubt the best match on the card tonight. At the risk of sounding condescending, I'd like to say I'm proud of you."  
  
"I appreciate that, Vince, I really do. Coming from you that means a lot," Randy replied.  
  
"Your old man must be ecstatic. Have you heard from him?"  
  
"He had already left a message by the time I got back to the locker room, but apparently he'd been calling every thirty seconds until he got a hold of me. He wanted to be the first in my family to say congratulations."  
  
"Well, son, you deserve all these accolades. Enjoy yourself tonight, but remember you've got a big day ahead of you tomorrow. Congratulations, again."  
  
"Thanks, Vince. I'll see you around," Randy said as he began to make his way over to Paul and Stephanie who were seated in a round booth with Ric. Stephanie looked beautiful as she hung on her husband's arm; being in love clearly suited her. Randy took the seat next to her and kissed her cheek as Paul and Ric stood up and clapped. The young champion laughed as he shook the hands of both man and thanked them.  
  
"How you feeling right now, big man?" Ric asked as he finished his glass of champagne.  
  
"On top of the world, my friend. Does it really ever get any better than this?" Randy replied.  
  
"It will once you have one of these lovely ladies on your arm," Paul answered, gesturing to the flock of young women that had begun surrounding the table as soon as Randy sat down. They winked and batted their eyelashes as he looked around, rewarding some of them with his million dollar grin. He recognized some of the Diva contestants and quickly looked away. Groaning, he turned his attention back to his friends.  
  
"Nah, not really my type. Is Maria around?"  
  
"She's trying to flirt with the bartender, last I saw, so you're safe for now" Stephanie answered, taking the next round of drinks from their waitress. Randy quickly finished the second glass of champagne and ordered two Jack and Cokes before the waitress could leave the table. "I see you're going all out with the celebration tonight," she laughed.  
  
"Gotta make up for lost time, my sweet. I've been denying my female fanbase for way too long," Randy said as a long-legged brunette walked by the table, swaying her hips for his benefit. "That's what I'm talking about," he said, gesturing to the young woman as she smiled at him.  
  
"Don't do anything I wouldn't do, Champ," Ric laughed and slapped his hands together as Randy left the table to talk to the woman. He caught up with her shortly and turned on the Orton charm. Leaving his jacket behind at the table, he placed one arm around the woman's waist and sipped his drink with his other hand, leading her to the dance floor.  
  
Nine Inch Nails began to play; Randy couldn't remember the name, but the song to him was pure sex. The bass reverberated throughout the club as the colored lights flashed. The woman ground her hips against him and did her best to fuck him through his clothes. Randy put his hands on her ass and tugged her closer to him as she brought his head down to hers and lavished him with her tongue. Her breath was hot and her skin sticky from sweat and dancing. He looked her in the eyes as she repeated, "You want to get out of here?" Randy smiled and looked around, as if contemplating her offer. He was ready to get laid, it had been a while for him; longer than usual. For some reason, however, he wasn't tempted to take this woman back to his bed. Maybe it was because he just got there and hoped to find something better, but in any case, she was just a warm-up.  
  
"And miss my own party? Sorry, sweets, not you, not tonight," he laughed as he went directly into asshole mode. He finished his drink, which he had brought to the floor with him, and walked away leaving the brunette horny and alone. Randy wasn't worried, though; he knew there would be 50 other guys who'd be willing to take his place. He walked up to the bar where he saw Leigh talking to John, looking too comfortable in Randy's opinion. He watched the two talk at the other end of the bar, observing their body language and trying to gauge what was happening.  
  
Leigh looked stunning, as usual, in a black dress that hugged her curves in all the right places; she hadn't changed from the arena, but the outfit went from professional to evening wear easily. Her hair was still pulled back but it was beginning to unravel slightly, giving her a sexy tousled look. Her jewelry, as always, was minimal: a watch on her right wrist, a large emerald ring on the middle finger of that hand, two silver bracelets on her left wrist, but no wedding band; she had done as he suggested and quit wearing it out. He watched as John handed her a shot of alcohol, at which she raised an eyebrow until he pleaded with her long enough to take it. Guess I can be thankful it's not a body shot, Randy thought.  
  
He and John had gone through OVW together and quickly became friends, both being young, good looking and exceptionally talented. They traveled together often before the roster split, but hadn't been able to spend much time together since. Cena was being looked at as the franchise player for SmackDown and Creative was hoping to spin the same gold with him as they had done with Randy on RAW. The two had often competed for women, each getting more than his share. Seeing John with Leigh, though, was almost too much. While it was true that Randy and Leigh weren't dating, he didn't want anyone else to be seeing her either. He watched as John put his arm around to the small of her back and pulled her close; a lump formed in Randy's throat. He breathed a sigh of relief when she pushed him away and laughed, then briefly glanced up and saw him. Leigh smiled at him and gave him a small wave, which Randy interpreted as an invitation to join them.  
  
"Didn't think you were much of a drinker," he said as he pulled her into a long hug. He could feel her laugh against his chest.  
  
"I heard there was cause for celebration," she answered.  
  
"Orton, man, I gotta say: that match tonight was completely off the hook. I've never seen you look better, man. Good job," John said as the two men shook hands and pulled one another into a one-armed-hug-back-slap.  
  
"Thanks… so, what're you drinking?" Randy asked, gesturing to the two empty shot glasses on the bar.  
  
"Cement mixers; ever try one?" Leigh challenged.  
  
Randy laughed at the incredulity of it. "You still trying to pawn that shit off, Cena? "  
  
"Man, she said she's a friend of yours, so I had to initiate her. Gotta say, though, she took it like a champ, so she's cool," John laughed as he eyed his friend. He had noticed the look Randy had given the beautiful blonde and realized she was already taken, even if neither she nor Randy realized it yet.  
  
"Randy! There you are—I've been looking all over for you! Your match tonight was so good! I loved the red trunks! I was so excited that you wore them because I had just told you last night how good you look in the red trunks and then you wore them when you won your first world championship! I can't believe you remembered!" Maria ran up behind the trio and slipped her arms around Randy's waist. He rolled his eyes as his two friends laughed at the ridiculous wannabe.  
  
"Oh, hey, Maria, have you met Trish Stratus yet? She's been saying all day how she really wanted to see you…" Leigh said in a helpful tone. She got the reaction she was hoping for when the blonde paled and ran off. "You owe me, Orton," she quipped as she walked away.  
  
Randy watched her go and John watched Randy watch her go. "You're into her, aren't you? More than usual, I mean," John asked as he signaled the bartender for another drink, and then nodded at another pretty blonde who had been trying to flirt with him from three barstools down.  
  
"She's just a friend, man, nothing more," Randy replied as he slapped his friend on the back. "We're in Boston in a couple of weeks; you gonna be there?" John nodded in confirmation as he walked over to the woman and shouted back, "We'll talk then, cool?"  
  
Randy nodded his head and walked back to his table where his friends were waiting. Ric had proceeded to get Paul and Stephanie sufficiently drunk by then and they were giggling as they watched Shane and Marissa try to dance. He sat down and sighed, realizing that it had been a long time since he himself had been good and drunk. If there was ever a good time, he knew it was now, but just then the house lights came up, signaling the end of the party. Different wrestlers began gathering up their belongings and their dates for the evening and made their way out the door. Ric, Paul and Stephanie finished the last of their drinks and began stumbling out of the booth.  
  
"So, Randy, mi compadre, which of these lovely ladies is it gonna be this evening?" Ric gestured with his outstretched hands to the throngs of women still hoping to catch Randy's attention.  
  
"Honestly, I don't think tonight's my night. I don't want the hassle of getting these chicks out in the morning. You guys gonna be okay getting back to the hotel?" Ric nodded in affirmation and told him that Dave was calling the limo now to pick them up. Randy looked around until he spotted Leigh and approached her. "Need a ride, pretty lady?"  
  
"Gracing me with your presence twice in one evening? I'm honored," Leigh smiled at him as she picked up her purse and slung it over her shoulder. "Actually, that'd be great; I left my car back at the hotel. You're leaving now?" As an answer, Randy offered her his elbow which she took and they walked outside. Giving his keys to the valet, he noticed Leigh shiver as they waited for the car. He took off his coat and placed it around her slender shoulders and she looked up at him and smiled in thanks. The car pulled up and Randy opened the door for her, then circled around the back and tipped the driver. As they pulled onto the street, Leigh looked at her friend.  
  
"I'm surprised this seat was available tonight; I figured you'd be bringing a date home with you."  
  
"Believe me, so did I," Randy laughed.  
  
"So why didn't you?" she asked, looking back to the road.  
  
"Nobody interested me. This has been a big night in my life, one that I'll probably always remember. I don't want some random thrown in there, too," he replied honestly. Leigh nodded in agreement, but truthfully was surprised at the answer. She knew Randy well, but didn't think he'd be quite so… mature about it.  
  
They drove the rest of the way in silence, passing through the deserted Toronto streets until they reached their hotel. Walking through the lobby, they passed the empty swimming pool area, still light up even at 2:30 in the morning. Leigh stopped and looked out the glass doors, finally pulling her shoes off and walking outside, leaving Randy stumped. He quickly followed her out and down the steps, where she stopped at the edge of the pool and sat down, sinking her feet in the water.  
  
"Heels are a bitch, especially after a seventeen hour day," she said in explanation. Randy chuckled and sat down next to her, himself pulling off his shoes and socks, rolling up his pants legs and joining her. "You really were great tonight; I don't think I told you that yet," she said softly.  
  
"I appreciate that," he answered. He leaned back on his elbows and up at the stars, relishing what has seemingly been the most perfect day in his young life. "I noticed you and John were getting along pretty well; I didn't interrupt anything there, did I?"  
  
Leigh looked back at him, a slight mixture of surprise and guilt crossing her face; Randy noticed the way the pool lights reflected in her eyes, then mentally scolded himself for sounding like a lovesick poet. "Jealous?" she challenged. Randy was quiet at that, then slowly pulled himself up to a full sitting position, never breaking eye contact with his beautiful friend. He put one hand on her neck and pulled her face to his, gently kissing her with an agonizing passion he didn't realize he felt. He was just as surprised when he realized she was kissing him back. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight, wish I may, wish I might, hear the wish I wish tonight. I wish I owned Randy.  
**  
If being in Randy's mere presence could alter her breathing, then kissing him was nothing short of intoxicating. All of Leigh's senses became heightened: she could hear the water on the pool lapping at their feet; the smell of Randy's cologne wafted gently through the air; the taste and feel of his lips intermingled with her own. The whiskey combined with the sugary-sweet taste of Coca-Cola. His lips were soft and tender as they caressed her own; the touch of his fingertips as they traced her jawline sent shockwaves throughout her body. Leigh felt as though she were riding a roller coaster straight down for eternity—her stomach now permanently lodged in the back of her throat. And then suddenly, it was over.  
  
Leigh took a moment to open her eyes, searching Randy's face for some clue as to what just happened. Had he been jealous that she spent time with John? He never seemed overly upset when she hung out with any of the other men from the locker room. Why had he kissed her? And, just as importantly, why had she kissed him back? A torrent of emotions ran through her and questions flooded her mind as she looked at him. He was smirking.  
  
"That was bad timing," he sighed and lay back down on the concrete, lifting his feet out of the pool only to splash them back in.  
  
Coming out of her reverie, Leigh realized he was talking. "Huh?" Smooth, Leigh, real smooth, she thought.  
  
"Actually, bad timing wasn't really the right thing to say. More like I got caught up in the moment: moonlight, alone by a pool with a beautiful woman… it just seemed like a kiss was appropriate. Sorry if I… uh…"  
  
"No, it's fine, really. It just took me by surprise. Plus, it was bound to happen sooner or later, right? Better to get it out of the way now… Is it really hot out here all of the sudden or am I imagining things? Whew, I wouldn't have thought Canada got warm, but it's really hot out here. I'm going to have a drink; you want to get a drink? Let's go raid the mini-bar in my room… I really need a drink," Leigh babbled incessantly as she stood up and collected her shoes and bag and hurried back to the main part of the hotel, embarrassed  
  
Randy sighed as he stood; why in God's name had he kissed her? Yeah, there were tinges of jealousy when he saw her with Mark and John, but no more so than when she was hanging out with Dave and Paul. Those two are married, you nimrod, he thought. You're not threatened by them. Randy watched as she walked through the glass doors and headed towards the elevator, turning around with a confused look in her eyes as she realized he wasn't following. He smiled at her and, putting his questions aside, followed her in, resigned to spend the evening with one of his best friends.  
  
They tried to walk silently down the 12th floor corridor, considering it was the middle of the night, but Randy, wanting to lighten the mood, kept knocking Leigh into people's doors, undoubtedly waking the occupants. This set Leigh giggling uncontrollably as they stumbled into her room.  
  
"Leigh? It wasn't that funny," he chuckled as he shut the door behind him.  
  
"Are you kidding? This entire floor is taken up by wrestlers who are probably trying to get their swerve on with whatever ring rat they picked up. Hearing heavy pounding on the doors in the middle of the night, they're probably thinking the girls' husband/father/boyfriend found them and are trying to reclaim their lost innocence. Doing that probably made them lose whatever mojo they've worked all night to get," she laughed as she pulled Randy's coat off her shoulders and tossed it on the bed.  
  
"Seriously, how old _are_ you? 'Swerve on'? 'Mojo'?" Randy laughed as she went through her drawers collecting her nightclothes.  
  
"You kids today and your fancy talk. Who am I to keep up with it?" she smiled. "I'm going to get out of this dress. Make yourself at home; I'll be right out," with that, she walked into the bathroom and shut the door.  
  
Randy looked around the room, noticing how much of herself she brought with her on the road. Normal stuff: clothes, a book, her laptop, work things. But there were also personal touches as well that traveled with her: an old time silver alarm clock, a framed picture with friends that he assumed were from back home; a scented candle that was labeled to smell like gin and tonic. Randy lit the candle and began loosening his tie, finally removing it and tossing it on the bed. He unbuttoned the royal blue shirt he was wearing and placed it, too, on the bed. When Leigh emerged from the bathroom to hang up her dress, she was slightly shocked to see Randy Orton in her hotel room, barefoot, wearing only a white undershirt and slacks, crouching at the mini-bar. He looked up to her and smiled. "What's your poison, princess?"  
  
"Well, I've already been a mild jackass tonight, so why not finish it up and go with tequila?"  
  
"You're not gonna cry, are you? I don't think I can handle crying tonight…" Randy raised an eyebrow at her, remembering the first night they hung out together. She smiled at him as she tucked her bangs behind her ear and reached for the bottles of tequila.  
  
"Are you going to be a real man and do this the way we do in Texas? Or do I need to go find salt and limes for you?"  
  
"Is that a challenge?"  
  
"Only if you're up for it… champ," she grinned wickedly at him as she curled up on the couch with her legs tucked underneath her Indian-style. Randy looked her over: she had changed into a white racer-back tank top with a pair of cotton pajama pants; she had removed her hair from the knot but had replaced the knitting needles with a plain rubber band. She looked almost… eager?  
  
The next two hours was spent taking shots of tequila out of the plastic cups from the bathroom and watching reruns of _Most_ _Extreme Elimination Challenge_ on TSN. The already amusing stunts on the tv show were made that much funnier after four of the bottles were polished off. They played cards—Bullshit was rendered ineffective seeing as there were only two people playing—and played poker for pennies where Randy learned that Leigh was a card shark and a pretty good cheater to boot. Around 5am, they were beginning to tire and their words became slurred. Randy had moved up to the couch with Leigh and she let him lay his head in her lap.  
  
"Tell me what went through your mind tonight, when you won…" Leigh asked as she stroked his hair. His long body took up the entire length of the couch and his legs had to curl over the armrest. His breathing was steady and even and it would only be a matter of time until he fell asleep. His arm curled around to caress her knee and he smiled, a lazy grin, as he began speaking.  
  
"Incredible. My dad would always tell me he didn't want me to go into the business; he wanted me to have a normal life where I would fight traffic in the morning, work an eight hour day at a job I hated, and be home with my wife every night. It was something he never had, as an adult or as a kid. He wanted to have little grandkids running around and he wanted me to able to take off for a week and go hunting with him and my brother whenever we felt like it. After I left the Marines, he realized that I wouldn't have that life even if I didn't go into wrestling. He saw I was restless and had no direction, but he knew that this would be something I'd be good at. Winning tonight let me prove that he was actually right; it took him a while to come around, but he finally did. It let me show him I was happy with the direction my life had taken, happier than either one of us imagined I ever could be. " Randy yawned and opening his eyes, looked up at Leigh. She was sitting with her back against the armrest of the couch and had leaned over to rest her head against the back cushions. She was still, however, absent-mindedly running her fingers through his very short hair and that made her his favorite person in the world. "How'd you wind up here, anyway? Why'd you leave Houston? You're obnoxiously proud of being a Texan; wouldn't it have been easier just to stay there?"  
  
"I thought you didn't want me to cry tonight?"  
  
"It's okay… I'll probably pass out in a few minutes anyway, but you look like you want to talk about it."  
  
"Not really. Let's talk more about you; you're your favorite subject."  
  
"You speak only the truth. What else do you want to know?" Randy sat up and stretched his arms over his head, allowing an inch of his very tan and defined stomach to come into view. Leigh, being inebriated, reached over to tickle him gently when he grabbed her wrist and pulled her into his lap.  
  
"I want to know how to make the spinning stop," Leigh groaned as she tried to sit up. "Seriously, Orton, you want to let me up right now. Don't want anything happening to these expensive pants now." He reluctantly let her stand and she stumbled into the bathroom. Randy went to gather his clothes off the bed to head back to his room, but thought better of it.  
  
When Leigh emerged again, with her face washed and teeth brushed to try to get rid of the tequila taste that remained in her mouth, she found Randy passed out in her bed. Not wanting to try and fight a 265 lb man, she sighed and climbed in next to him. Instinctively, Randy threw his arm over her side and she snuggled in closer to him. "I'm sorry you spent your championship night like this," she whispered, not wanting to wake him if he was, indeed, asleep.  
  
"I wouldn't want it any other way," he whispered back and kissed her head. "Goodnight, princess."

**A/N**: I'm sorry this was so short… and bad. I needed to get something up, though, and my Randy muse is failing me (probably because I got so little of him on Monday. Plenty of Kane, though.) Anyway, thanks to the wonderful fourlane, I've got a new idea of what to put in next that I'm pretty excited about. Next chapter is going to have some Dave. I love me some Dave. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: Wherefore art thou, Randy?  
**  
Leigh awoke at 7:15 the next morning to bright sunshine and a banging in her head; however, there was no leisurely getting out of bed. No long, languid stretch as she contemplated the day that lay ahead. There was only the shrill ringing coming from the nightstand as she heard Randy curse from under the covers and wrap his arms more firmly around her waist. Leigh fumbled for the ringing phone, trying not to open her eyes.  
  
"I hate you," she stated in lieu of hello, hoping it wasn't Vince or, worse yet, her mother.  
  
"I'm not running today, Leigh; you can't make me," a deep voice replied, not caring.  
  
"Dave, my head is pounding and the room is still spinning and you expect me to run?"  
  
"You know, there's a McDonald's around the corner… Would walking there count as exercise?"  
  
"Bacon, egg and cheese?" She asked hopefully  
  
"Meet me in the lobby in ten."  
  
Leigh hung up the phone and sighed, lying back against her pillows. Randy had rolled over onto his back and his breathing was deep and regular; he had fallen back asleep. She got out of bed and went into the bathroom, washed her face, brushed her teeth and pulled her hair back again. Throwing on some clean clothes, she walked back into the bedroom and took in the sight. It had been well over a year since she'd awoken with a man in her bed and, while she loved Jim dearly, he was nothing like Randy Orton. The sheets had been pulled down since Leigh got out of bed and now hung loosely around his waist; the stark whiteness contrasting against Randy's tan skin. One leg was thrown on top of the covers, bent slightly at the knee, giving the allusion of nakedness. His perfectly sculpted abdominal muscles rose up and down as he breathed his deep slumber and fumbled for someone on Leigh's empty side of the bed. Realizing that he hadn't moved to the center of the mattress when she got up, she understood that Randy was unaccustomed to sleeping alone. She sighed again and, picking up her wallet and room key, left as silently as she could.  
  
The hallways and elevator were deserted at this hour of the morning, all members of the roster still trying to sleep off their hangovers. Walking into the lobby, she collapsed on a frilly sofa that was too uncomfortable to be practical and waited for Dave. He strolled in a few minutes later in a pair of black track pants and a gray Redskins t-shirt. His short hair was mussed and he had dark circles under his eyes.  
  
"You look like you had a rough night," Leigh said as she stood up and linked her arm with his own tree-like arm.  
  
"You didn't sound too happy yourself a few minutes ago. What happened to you last night?" He chuckled as they stepped out onto the bustling streets of Toronto's downtown district. People in suits carrying briefcases with cell phones attached to their ears surrounded them in every direction, trying desperately to get to their offices before the 8am bell rang. Just as she had suspected, it was an entirely different city from this time yesterday morning. Dave and Leigh were jostled as they strolled in the bright morning sunlight, their eyes hidden behind sunglasses and their heads hanging low.  
  
"Met up with an old friend I hadn't seen in a long time. Jose's a great guy, but he leaves me feeling like shit the next day; it's really not any way to treat a lady," she smiled as they turned the corner.  
  
"Cuervo, huh? I didn't think you drank that stuff…"  
  
"I don't; now I remember why," she grinned. They walked in silence the remainder of the way; the cool morning air doing as much to rid Leigh of her hangover as the thought of a greasy bacon, egg and cheese biscuit. "What did you guys do last night?"  
  
"Something really stupid," Dave said glumly as he opened the door to the fast food chain and ushered her inside. He removed his sunglasses as they went up to the counter and ordered, Leigh casting sideways glances at him the entire time. Picking up their orders, they decided on a seat outside on the playground overlooking the city; Dave put his sunglasses back on and kept them there for the remainder of breakfast. "I took a girl back to the room with me last night," he said finally.  
  
Leigh was silent as she looked at her good friend, not knowing how she was supposed to respond to that or even if she should. She took a sip of her Coke, wincing slightly as it burned down her throat, and waited for him to continue. "I'm such an ass. After the match, I called home and talked to Angie and the girls, told them I loved them. Not three hours later I'm hooking up with some random in the back of the limo and telling her to come back to my room."  
  
"Did you—"  
  
"Yeah, a couple times. Until somebody knocked on my door around 3; scared the shit out of me. I realized what I was doing and called her a cab and sent her home." Dave picked at his food, not able to look Leigh in the eyes. "What do I do?"  
  
"I can't answer that, Dave. You did it, it can't be undone. Are you going to tell her?" Leigh answered as she took a bite of her biscuit and moaned in ecstasy. "Sorry," she mumbled.  
  
"I don't know; I have to, I guess. I should suck it up and tell her, at least let her know how much of an ass I am, right? Jesus, what have I done?" He propped his elbows on the table and held his head in his hands, utter defeat weighing heavily on his massive shoulders. "The three of them are the best thing I've got going right now; we've been doing so well these past couple years and I go and screw it up again."  
  
"Is it okay if I'm totally nosy and ask you questions that are absolutely none of my business? Feel free to say no," Leigh said as she wiped her mouth with a napkin, her pension for grease having been completely absolved on hearing Dave's confession.  
  
"Shoot," he answered.  
  
"Why were you guys having problems in the first place, before she was diagnosed?"  
  
"Same shit. I was on the road all the time, leaving Angie to take care of the girls and work and all the house stuff. She said she hadn't signed on for that when we got married. I got pissed at having her nag me all the time, so I was signing up for extra shows whenever they needed me and picking up girls in every city. When she got cancer, though, it all changed; I realized how close I was to losing her and nothing else interested me anymore." He trailed off and fumbled with the lid on his coffee cup, apparently having lost his appetite as well. "As a woman, would you want to know if your husband cheated on you?"  
  
Leigh pondered this momentarily. "Yeah, but I'm masochistic that way. Cheating's always been a deal breaker for me in any relationship, but I've never gone through with anyone what you and Angie have been through together. Why the sudden change, though? If you had been thinking you'd lose her and devoted yourself to being with her, why all of the sudden do you go back to doing what got you in trouble in the first place?"  
  
"Hell if I know. I'd been drinking and the girl was just there. I guess I wanted attention and she was more than willing to give it to me. I never intended it to go as far as it did."  
  
"Twice."  
  
"You're not helping, Leigh," Dave growled at her.  
  
She sighed and cleared her throat, pushing the food away and leaned forward on the table, taking his hand in hers. "I know, I'm sorry; this really isn't my area of expertise. Sweetheart, you know I love you and would do anything for you, even if it is just listening to you vent, but somebody like Ric might be better able to give you advice on how best to handle this."  
  
"I was already thinking about talking to him, but just wanted to… I don't know, get your opinion and see what a woman's take would be on the whole thing."  
  
"Honestly, you're going to have to assume Angie finds out; no matter what you do, something stupid will come along and she'll find out. Absolutely worst case scenario—God forbid—the girl winds up pregnant and shows up at your doorstep when Angie's home. Do you want your pregnant one-night-stand to tell your wife what happened or would you rather have her already know about it?"  
  
"That's an ugly possibility that I can't think about right now."  
  
"Are you willing to give up your job to save your marriage?"  
  
"I don't know. I'm finally getting to where I've worked for the past 10 years to be. I've wanted to be a wrestler longer than I've loved Ange…"  
  
"Marriages can get past a lot worse than what happened last night, but both people have to be willing to work at it and be able to trust one another. If you tell her and she's willing to forgive you, it's going to take a lot of effort on your part to win back her trust. You'll probably need to go to couples counseling and she might ask you to stay off the road; you'll need to figure out if you can do that for her. I'm sorry, Dave, I know this sucks and if I could do anything to help you out I would…"  
  
"No, there's nothing you can do, but I appreciate it. Sorry to have dragged you down in all this anyway; I probably shouldn't have told you."  
  
"I'm glad you did. I know I wasn't really any help, but… I definitely think you should talk to Ric, at least, before you do anything. He'll be able to give you a more balanced opinion." She looked at her watch and realized they'd been sitting at the table, neither one eating, for over an hour. Their remnants from breakfast were scattered around the table and the wind rustled the empty wrappers.  
  
Dave sighed as he, too, looked at the time and realized they needed to get back to the hotel to make the drive to London. Gathering up their trash and throwing it away, he walked back to Leigh and enveloped the small woman in a hug that nearly crushed her. "I really appreciate you listening to all this bullshit. I know it's not a great way to start the day, but… thanks." She squeezed her arms around his waist and rubbed at the large man's back, not envying his position in his personal life. She knew Dave loved his family and wanted to keep them together, but she couldn't fathom why he had risked it all last night. She only wished Randy had knocked her into Dave's door earlier in the night so maybe it would have prevented anything from happening.  
  
"Shit, Randy…" she mumbled aloud.  
  
"I'm Dave, but people get us confused a lot. I think it's the tattoos," he mumbled into her hair. She laughed, greatful that he was trying to lighten the mood.  
  
"Thanks for clearing that up, but I left him in my room. I should probably pick something up for him before we head back."  
  
"Randy stayed with you last night?" Dave asked incredulously. There was an obvious attraction between the two, but he never thought anything would happen so soon. He pulled away from her to look her in the eyes, but Leigh blushed and looked down.  
  
"It was completely innocent. Honestly. We drank a lot and watched tv and then passed out. End of story," she answered with an air of finality. She didn't want anyone to know anything that happened; even as innocent as the kiss was—wasn't it?—Leigh knew it would get twisted around courtesy of backstage gossip. She headed back inside to pick up some food to go, then rejoined Dave and they walked back to the hotel.  
  
"No matter what happens with Angie and the girls, you're going to be okay. You know that, right?" She asked after they had walked halfway in silence.  
  
"As corny as it sounds, this business really is a cruel mistress; it takes time away from your family, your home, your friends. But when you try to give it up, it grabs hold of you: you miss everything about it. The fans, the adrenaline, the excitement…"  
  
"Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in!" Leigh automatically paraphrased the great Michael Corleone from _The Godfather_, complete with hand motions. Dave looked at her questioningly, not sure whether to laugh at her or be insulted that she was joking during one of his very rare philosophical moments. Leigh noticed his silence.  
  
"Bad time?"  
  
"Very."  
  
"I thought all answers to life's questions were in _The Godfather_?"  
  
"True, but how the hell is that the answer to my question of whether or not I should tell my wife I slept with another woman?"  
  
"Ah, little grasshopper, you may interpret as you wish; the answer will come to you," she smiled at the big man as he held the door of the hotel open for her and they walked inside.

**A/N:** Sorry this has taken so long everybody. It's been done for a while, but I wasn't sure if I liked it or not and so delayed posting. I'm going to have to do nothing but write to get caught up to where RAW is now. Preview for Ch. 12: Evolution attacks Randy! Wow, I'm behind.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer**: Even though I try to make this as realistic as possible, as much as my little brain will allow, I'm definitely taking some liberties. None of this is real, hence the _fiction_ in fanfiction.

The members of the creative team gathered in a small cramped room in the underbelly of the arena in London, Ontario. Most were hungover and miserable, grasping their cups of coffee as though they were i.v.s pumping a constant flow of pure energy into their bloodstream. The room had an aura of desperation and uncertainty as the men and women grasped straws trying to recreate the excitement the pay-per-view generated the night before. The meeting had gotten off to a late start due to the fact that everyone felt sick from the previous evening's hedonism and had arrived at the arena later than normal. The group had already covered the events of SummerSlam and was planning RAW for August 16. Thanks to the sudden inclusion of Paul Heyman as more-than-consultant-but-not-quite-booker, they had finally begun planning more for long term ideas, but only for possible main events and the combatants. Now that SummerSlam was over, they had to plan for the next pay-per-view: Unforgiven.  
  
"You honestly want to go back to a Triple H title reign again?" Brian Eiworth, the head of the RAW brand asked as he sat next to Paul Heyman. How Brian figured in as 'head', no one was quite sure anymore. Normally, he conducted meetings for the Monday show and took Vince and Stephanie a basic outline of how it would flow; lately, however, Stephanie and Paul Levesque had begun running them.  
  
"After the reaction Orton got last night in Toronto? We HAVE to turn him face, Brian. We've had a babyface champ since Benoit won at WrestleMania, so we need to have a heel champ for a while. The ratings always go up when the face chases," Stephanie replied; she had a point. Somehow the fans always seemed to enjoy angles more when the good guy chased the bad, in simplest terms. Something about overcoming adversity, triumphing in the face of evil, really seemed to appeal to the common man  
  
"It just doesn't make sense. You've done nothing but build this kid up; it's the reason why Evolution was created: to give Orton a vehicle to get into the spotlight. The angles with Foley, the whole Legend-Killer persona, the long IC belt reign; it was all to get him to the championship. To take it away from him after a month? I don't see how it's possible to do it without making him look like a chump and undoing all the great work for the past year?" Heyman loved being back in the swing of things, creatively speaking. RAW and SmackDown had done their best ratings in two years when he had been onboard, but then his big mouth and refusal to kiss ass led him down the wrong path. Paul, however, was still very well-respected among many people backstage, and some of those same people felt that he could be the one to turn the company back around. Unfortunately, however, none of those supporters were named McMahon. The success of his 'little underground promotion', otherwise known as ECW, had produced some of the most fantastic, unbelievable-unless-seen-with-your-own-eyes angles. His promos were second only to the best Ric Flair shots, and he could make a stupid plotline seem plausible; he was sorely needed not only among Creative, but on camera as well. Vince and Kevin Dunn, his second-in-command, had apparently been able to bury the hatchet with the evil genius, thankfully; while not fully onboard as a member of Creative, people still paid attention when Paul Heyman spoke.  
  
"We can't hotshot this angle, Steph; this is something that will draw huge if we do the right build-up for it. Let's tease an Orton turn and start slowly with jealousy from Hunter; really make people uncomfortable whenever they're onscreen together, wondering when it's going to happen. Finally have it culminate just before Rumble and do the match there." Leigh piped in with Heyman nodding along.  
  
"We can't possibly let the kid hold the belt that long, especially if you want to keep the two of us separated to build up this tension. I say he drops the belt at Unforgiven, I'll hold it for a couple months and we can do a back and forth thing, and then if Orton's still doing well, we can do a rematch at either Rumble or WrestleMania." Paul Levesque contributed. He was seated on Stephanie's right hand side next to the dry erase board with the evening's line-up. The only blank space was for the main event overrun.  
  
"Hey, guys, where's Benoit in all this? He was champ for almost six months consecutively and we're supposed to let people think he lets it go?" Michael Hayes asked. They had slated Benoit to interrupt Randy's promo at the beginning of the evening and the rematch would be aired tonight, against everyone's better judgment. The Evolution angle would determine how the night ended, however.  
  
"That's where I think this whole thing should go down. Randy beats Chris again, with the RKO. That'll be what—the second? third time?—so it'll put the move over huge. Evolution comes out to do the whole big celebration in the ring; it makes sense since it didn't happen on-camera last night. There's cheering, singing 'He's a Jolly Good Fellow' or whatever the fuck, and out of the blue we just nail him. Beat the shit outta him, bust him open, the whole time screaming that he's nothing without Evolution." Levesque was excited; bloodbaths always made him excited. There was no denying he could come up with great matches and angles, however the problem was that they continuously revolved around him and he usually came out with the upper hand. Leigh sighed as she feared that Randy could possibly fall into Chris Jericho territory: well-respected, great matches, but never among the upper tier again. _Levesque wouldn't do that to his prodigy though, would he?_ she thought.  
  
"Yeah, then next week we can run a promo where H asks Orton to give up the belt since Randy didn't earn it or it belongs to Hunter or whatever. He can pretend to think about it and basically say no, thereby cementing his babyface turn. Then for the next couple weeks leading up to Unforgiven, we can have him play the slick young kid, always outsmarting Triple H and Evolution. That'll really get him over." Stephanie explained her stance.  
  
"Don't get me wrong, this sounds like great stuff, but my problem is: if that's the case, and no one in Evolution is supposed to have the world belt except H, then why the hell is Batista hanging around? Shouldn't it be every big man's goal to fight for the title?" Marc asked. Leigh looked at him and grinned; he had a damn good point.  
  
"Batista's benefiting just from being in Evolution; we've never played him for the brightest bulb in the lamp, just the monster," Levesque answered.  
  
"Listen, I know this is an unpopular opinion, but I think Orton needs the belt for more than a month to stay over. Triple H is pretty much golden no matter what we do, but don't you think Randy needs that little something extra to make the fans care?" Leigh asked, bringing the focus back to the matter at hand.  
  
"Aren't you the same woman who was saying that he's already over?" Levesque asked as he leaned back in his chair.  
  
"On his wrestling skills, yeah, I don't think anyone will deny that he's great in the ring. He's held his own in there regardless of who we put him in with. Great brawl with Edge, unforgettable hardcore match with Foley, and the match last night with Benoit was fantastic. Granted, Benoit could make me look good in the ring, but last night was something totally different. If we book Randy to look weak, that's all going to be forgotten by the casual fans."  
  
"But we don't have casual fans right now, remember? I think you even said that in your interview: we're working with the core group of fans, the ones who remember what we've done, what the wrestlers have done, and appreciate workrate above anything else. They have and will continue to recognize that Orton's great. And besides, we won't book him to look weak: we just said we'll have him be the guy that gets out of jams, constantly pissing Triple H off because he's always staying one step ahead of Evolution. Listen, I understand you want your boyfriend to look good out there, but we've got to think about what's best for the RAW brand as a whole. I honestly believe Hunter is it." Stephanie answered, but quickly bit her tongue at seeing Leigh's face. Shit, did she just call Randy Leigh's boyfriend? Shit, shit, shitty shit shit.  
  
At the break in conversation where several people looked questioningly from Leigh to Stephanie and back again, dreading the idea of another member of Creative dating a wrestler, Brian cleared his throat and stood up. "OK, folks, I think we can go with this version of the script. I'll run it past Vince and once I get the okay, Mike, you, Dean and Arn can go meet with everybody and go over their roles for tonight. Marc and Leigh, instead of the contestants, I'd like you two to get together with our Divas to go over the wedding/baby shower angle. Pete, you get with Coach for the girls' 'We Hate Carmella' campaign. Everybody know what to do?" Brian asked  
  
All attendants nodded in agreement and slowly began to file out of the room to see to their respective duties. They would meet up again in an hour and go over any revisions that Vince and Kevin saw fit to add and then present the outline at the wrestling meeting later in the afternoon. Leigh told Marc she'd meet up with him shortly in Catering, then turned to her boss.  
  
"Steph, can I talk to you for a sec?" Stephanie walked outside into the hallway to meet with her charge, already fearing where the conversation might go. "Look, I just want to ask a favor. As a friend and as your employee, can you please not bring up my personal relationships—whatever they may be—in the booking room?"  
  
"Sure, so long as you do the same," Steph answered.  
  
"I don't understand…"  
  
"I AM sorry for what I said in there. You're right that it shouldn't have been brought up, but…" Steph paused, not sure what direction to take the conversation in. Leigh was her friend, but first and foremost an employee. She decided to lay it on the line. "Look, I know there's something going on between you and Randy—don't shake your head at me. You may not be dating, but there's something going on. Whatever the status, you can't let your emotions and your friendships with these guys dictate your job; who you're friends with shouldn't determine who you write angles for and who you stand up for in our meetings The staff assembled in that room has a lot of experience booking shows; we know what's best in the long run. You've only been with us for a couple months and, while I do consider you a friend, you don't have the skill behind you to try to throw your weight around like that."  
  
Leigh took with the words in with a look of surprise on her face; she hadn't realized anything she'd done could be construed as throwing weight around. On the other hand, though, who was Stephanie to say anything about not allowing your relationships to determine who gets tv time? That's right, Leigh though, she's Stephanie McMahon. Leigh took a deep breath and looked Steph in the face: "Point taken. Thanks for letting me know," she smiled grimly and walked off, trying desperately not to act like a pouting four year-old.  
  
**A/N:** I know not much happened in this chapter and for that I apologize, but writing the actual wrestling stuff is easier for me and seeing as it's been forever since I posted an update, I figured this would work. Informal poll: do you even like these kinds of chapters where there's more of the backstage stuff, even if Our Boy doesn't make an appearance? I needed to add Paul Heyman in because he is my idol; not sure if the timeline on his arrival into Creative is right, but I figure it'll work for plot contrivance. Anyway, thanks as always to everyone who's taken the time to review; your comments and constructive criticism is very much welcomed. PS. How hot was Randy the other night? Me-ow!


End file.
